the one the rest of the country's been waiting for,
patiently impatient for the bad teenager to overdose,
slide from the earth into myth, my rickety porch a pile of garbage
it's not going to happen.

it's not going to happen,
armageddon, fire erupting
from my life's flat streets,
silver ships
filling the sky like rain
children, old men rushing into the outside
with guns, bullets, more rain
cracking my flat streets
the fall of civilization
all dogs turning on their masters,
taking the flat streets
a bubble of love
popping in your brain
like an aneurysm
and you come in your car
in the throes of a gorgeous death,
it's not going to happen.
a plummet from the endless window
television static at the end of the night,
it's not going to happen.
the corpse of every bitter life
dragging their ass from the dirt
to say everything that died in their mouth
as their last breath wheezed,
it's not going to happen.
the big one's not coming.
peace, respite, gleaming gold dad
from the sky, all the parents in the world
looking upward in united comprehension,
finally, as their children drop dead from exhaustion.
your love storming the jungle in a ski hat,
kicking lead from the wall as it climbs my hair,
it's not going to happen.
i've got the flat streets,
a landscape to share with the planet,
flat and filthy and nobody is coming
to clean it, it's not going to happen
and it's all we got forever.