Catching Fools
I wrote this one during a particularly boring lecture. I am sure the reader will remember the incident where a bunch of rich people had a really poor idea and ended up crushed by the only force that is unyielding enough to trump wealth and influence, Mother Nature’s hand itself. These days, it feels like those of us who feel like they’re above having bad ideas are very frequently the people in control of the world, and then they feel entitled to success and react like children once their bad ideas inevitably come back to bite them.
I get this weird desire to be patronising to the stupid rich people who run our world. Sure, have your temper tantrum, your nervous ticks. Light up a cigarette like you’re in a movie. Raise your arm in a salute like it’s 1939. Say that you think there are only two genders. Whatever. One day you’ll be dead, and Mother Nature won’t miss you a single bit.
Of course, there’s nothing that I’ve done myself that warrants me being patronising to anyone, but I believe things return, and sometimes it is my job to return them. It’s a coping mechanism, and I guess it may be as healthy as lighting up an actual cigarette.
Kicking down a can on the curb, head down
Appealing signs of neon and lead
Dodging lines and telling times for strangers, out loud
The house of cards and one job that you had
Light up a cigarette
Put your hands on your head
You failed
Look at the mess you made
Rock like a boat on waves
You failed
Break out of this place, the air’s getting stale
The cold and dark are calling you to dance
You’ve been warned, you’ve been told
It’s all old news
You’ll hide those pretty eyes behind your hands
You didn’t even get to see the wreck, did you?
You failed at everything you tried to do
You can’t buy yourself out of this mess, can you?
Poetic justice’s sweet but always catching fools
Guess what you are?
Light up a cigarette
Quit like you’re still ahead
Check out at sonic speed
Bite your lips, grit your teeth
You failed
Stand in the pouring rain
Might as well stay the same
Act like you’re in control
Try to disguise the fall
You failed
You’re a fool, fool, fool
And you failed
You fucking failure
You fumbled, you failed
You fail, you fool
You can’t do anything you wanna do
Yeah, yeah, yeah
How does it feel?
How does it feel to be a fool?
I had the delightfully weird and absurdly talented Amon Rose to make a cover for the Live At The Bedroom edition of this song, featuring The Fool as a caught rabbit.
