Three Parts

Of A Particle

I sat in a little chapel in a hospital 
Where many have prayed and a few have died
And thought of the zigzag
That was supposed to be the continental divide
When it cracks deep into the molten
Every human is going to croke
In a hot smoky bath of lava
I hear that word and begin to choke
And my lady looks so restless
As she whispers earthquake
And we hold hands trembling
When the earth shakes

Caesar asks me the purpose of life
And I said omg give me another drink
My heroes are either bankrupt or dead
So it doesn't matter what I think
The holy men have answers only in hindsight
That most should find unsatisfactory
As most of us continue to peel potatoes
In this eternal sausage factory
A great big kick in the head
Is all it really takes
As mountains go through a sieve
When the earth shakes

It says you need to be strong to get old
Sorry man but that makes me nervous
Especially when big old mother earth
Is saying the bus is no longer in service
When the big one hits it won't matter
If it is night or day or noon
Those mighty hounds of destruction
Are coming to a town near you soon
I wonder what if feels like
When god slams on the brakes
On a twirling hunk of rock
When the earth shakes

Smoly Lee once told me that
The only thing you know is 
That you really don't know anything
In this universal swirling tiz
And Davy Dee is flexing his brain
To prove destiny deterministic
When he really knows inside his heart
That is is truly probabilistic
Neither of these guys can tell me
When we see the emptying of the great lakes
Or the trees turn to salt
When the earth shakes

We conserve the info as best we can 
Even though it is badly scrambled
It was enough to set you teeth on edge
Even though on one we gambled
OUr delayed choice experiment
Allows us to really write past history
With all the  social constructionism
That leaves us inside an orgasm of mystery
The computer voice man in the wheelchair
No longer conceals his sex appeal
As the naked miracle dancing on the stage
Shows me what is really real.

They tell me that gravity is nothing
But  a bending of my boolean mind
They tell me that to be a thinking human
Is the same as being physically blind
The temperature fluctuations aren't great
Cause the universe in on birth control
That thing between his legs past 60 degrees
Is suffering from low monopole
so out of the void Dirac and Dyson
Shout out loud that we'll
Have one non zero conserved thing
That allows for what is really real.

Guthy Al tells me the universe is a free lunch
But that structure of nature ain't so nice
Cause all we want is meaning
That ain't worth the asking price
A Higgs boson is flying around
The quark has a mass eating vice
A new quantum field is crowned
The electron plays time twice
Space and time are starting to puke
On the idea ferris wheel
There's a knowledge hole in the random
That tells me what is really real

You can almost see Grandpa Einstein
Rising from the burial ground
As the math gets fucked by our language
Rather than the other way around
A big bang black hole is weeping
As she raises her night gown
Dark energy sits on dark matter
Who can't get off the ground
And Ed the Head stands in the church
In front of an alter he tries to kneel
To pray that he can find
What is really real

All the tombstones were knocked over
He was just there for the ride
The booze that marinated his brain stem
Turned the jekyll into hyde
The embalming fluid and the alcohol
Will get mixed in the burial ground
Darwinian million mile an hour roadster 
That first went around
On the road the silent man moses
Pours from the cocktail shaker
It is his dna behind the wheel
As he goes to meet the Maker

They say god prefers to do things digitally
Computing at the wailing wall
You know how big infinity is 
But do you really know how small?
The hospital announced that god's on dope 
Because god is in pain
We tried to tone down the chemistry
But used up every vein
Make him look like a victim
As he throws the circuit breaker
So the Boltzmann brain and I
Can go the meet the Maker.

This is what the billionaires do
Maybe I'll get some maybe I won't
Now the finger black millionaires
With throats on fire who just don't
understand that when their nose is gone
So is the talent of smelling rats
Who follow the strange money, 
With its assorted mystery that's
Arrived at the greedy druggy hand
At the gate of hell's half acre
As the unbaptised and the lunatics
Come to meet the Maker.

I’ve got web access to the torture
I have painted my face all white
Emerg is filled with pewkers
Going to the speed of light
The surgical injustice show
Is just another word for luck
One finger is inside a belly
While the other hand holds a buck
And my pretty little bureaucrat
Lies to the census taker
As the gasman at the head of the table
Thinks about the Maker