Sal BiaseComment


Sal BiaseComment


I’m on the outskirts of a dying town

And you’re driving, but asleep at the wheel

While you’re taking the longer way around

I am searching for something to prove what’s real

But reality is only objective truth

As such it requires no further proof

The world looks young, but it’s long in the tooth

For now, I’m not sure what that means


It seems certain that the cities are dying, too

By now, you have woken up, but it’s too late

Cut the wheel hard, apply the brakes and soon

We will have to leave this all up to fate

There is something more that remains to be found

Connected to all, completely unbound

Encoded in light and color and sound

But impossible to know what it means


Society is dying, that much I know

Falling silent as dead winter snow

From the outskirts of town we’ll watch it all go

Like children stunted, refusing to grow

Carried by wind with each warming blow

Fallout to bathe us in such an unholy glow

We’ve long been told we will reap what we sew

But we’ve never been sure what that means