The psy is the limit
now they’ve stolen the sea
gathered an army
to change a regime
you once called reality
mentally, martially
the psy is the limit
it’s a cornflake box
wrapped all around you,
little puzzles and locks
the psy is the limit:
don’t lose the key
don’t lose the key
You’ve forgotten how to find shade,
fabric that can shield,
old leaves won’t stick back on
you’ll need to find foliage
when the sun has tipped
from friend to foe, you’ll want
to be under awnings
not being beaten, overawed,
in the direct firing glare,
you’ll need to see doorways
you’ll need to lean on doors,
find in you and use
the protection that is yours
I’ll open your letters
I’ll make the overdue call
I’ll discuss terms on your behalf
Steady the cards before they fall
I can quell your demons
because they’re not my demons
I can quell your demons
they have no power over me
Why do they manifest?
with strange psychological power,
inert and lurking in the breast-
are they working for or against?
a reluctance to face the music,
a wishful state of your own choosing
a laziness of will from a lack of direction
comfort from the curve of descending
resistance, apathy and antipathy
pile up the sand around the ears
pack it down, drown my fears
with the fixing sea as it stokes
with it’s foamy fingers round me.
All it takes is clarity
all it takes is a sense of certainty
then those demons
they’re working for me
My Deerboy 