
I don't want to be a subversive anymore (Subversion Drum)
By Dean Moran
I knew I would always be ok with the drum
Any halfway dependable drug dealer would have given me a shot
I found myself in the circles and lost myself in managing
the stress with substances and sex was smothering
My pain was everywhere from bars to cars full
Of many wonderful children of families who depended
On me and the work week still ran with its rewards
A glorious dependency of iFound intimacy
And remembered traumas that shared the problem
We all tried to carry around for each other
Condoms and drums were my healthy outlets
Smoothies and talk therapy
Sacred things and ceremonies
To no god but love
and forgiveness in taking off your backpack
And dancing
I don’t want to be subversive anymore
A drastic change in values has been adapted genetically
Trances hypnotizing have direction and frequencies
If good and evil are untrue — if we ascribe value
To water and what we already have
We will survive the weather — if we take rubbers
Off the shelf and abstain for the sanctity of health
Not just old Augustus and Constantine
Urgency is urging me crazy and imminent
Pontus pilot put me up to it
Sanctity of Marriage and freedom of touch
And to deal with the rational consequences of reproduction
Dawning of a day with more careful release
And foot massages of soul love
To quell the spell of free form fury
Of 3 serious qualms to tell:
Waste
Hedonism
And botched handjobs
The most sacred thing between two humans
Is covered in a poly
Marketed with toxic flavor
And distributed by the center for health
I don’t want to be subversive anymore
I wanna be a common drum.