Dishes

You tell yourself you're fixed So you attack the dishes Until they are stacked and finished And lay your head on down And then you get that itch Electricity Catalyzed by your chemistry Singeing like a blown out fuse Now you're stepping out Every deviled corner of your living rooms downtown Endlessly en route You walk on in Take a seat and sit With your thirteen suited affiliates When the tremors start to hit All the thoughts in your head Disordered and Spinning like the stars and sun and planets Copernicus is dead But his theories keep on orbiting around what you've left When you come back down Your mother's in the kitchen And your father's on the ground Thundering aloud "Come on take a look I'm like John the Baptist Is there a hole that I can sink in?" But it's you he's drowning out You just want to be fixed Washing those dirty dishes You tell yourself you're fixed Washing the dirty dishes You just want to be fixed There's no time in the present You tell yourself you're fixed At least you keep on wishing