you talk of diamonds
and I can't help but think
of that old sonic youth song
the one about kurts death
and the dying movement
I remember watching 18,000 people Leave
as they rolled out the hits
"Oh you're so intelligent"
you screamed at me from up on the stage
I was repulsed by what I saw
the mockery
our blood turning to wax
we are all statues now
held firmly in our proudest moment
perfectly positioned
as silver turns gray
with dust in our cheek bones
and our waning smiles
standing tall
so irreverent and abstract
if they could see through these eyes
a thousands years
gone in an instant