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Robin Bacior
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Jubilee
My body is a finely tuned, well-oiled machine.
I'm constantly fiddling with wiring,
just trying to fix my fears up.
But when I'm out of tune
so suddenly the moon shines wrongly down on me.
And everything inside is sparking fire.
The flames, the flames are melting me down,
melting me down.
It's too hard to see the cracks in my machine
that filter in the worries of the air.
My chords are such a mess
and I can't tell why,
so i just cry oh and cry,
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waiting for the moon to look right.
What a tragedy to be such a helpless machine,
but to feel so real.
To feel so out of control,
all I can do is hold right onto this skin,
that holds all of my wiring in.
All I can do is push aside these tangled chords-
'lo and behold- a heart.
A constant beat that keeps me,
that keeps me, on my feet,
under the moon.
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