i see the crowd dealing & responding, to manners they feel
compelled,
storing the word processed soul & deleting extracts from which
they don't approve. i see people playing cards by the side of
the road & i see the expressway & all i want to do is walk on.

because i pitch the shift in ways in which it could mean
something
& i'm left with a pit
it's a crime wave move on
& it feels out of place to want to taste the things that don't
belong & leave the mess inside
it's a crime wave, push on

i feel the faces stripping & guts ripping out twice, the
audience
knows it's not just bullets converting energy to death. arguing
over some strip that divides more than just a town. the way you
bleed only from watching, the way you heal from only stopping.
i know so because i saw it on the big screen, a man held out
his hands with a gun & looked at me & said 'hey babe, it's a
crime wave, time to move on'.

because the abuse is loose & undefinable so let's put it in the
closed file marked under lost,
it's a crime wave, read on
& if i see the man from the tv, i'll be sure to stop & say,
it's
a shame ray, haven't you moved on?

i see the market with a bible of beauty, & the mantra with a
heart of t-shirts, presents wrapped in tomorrows & diets
based
on yesterdays. i read the script before it was written, every
word, every character, every moment had to say, 'it's a crime
wave, move on'.

the pattern lingers like grubby fingers sticking to the fridge
door, evidence left only proves
it's a crime wave, clue on
& to set the scene i see it all out by the washing machine,
clothed
& hung out to spy
it's a crime wave, groove on

sun eats skin, like misunderstanding eats hearts, like lying
whips facts or cheating yourself lashes back, & like time
through
an hour-glass, these are the ways of our knives. they just sit
there & moan over a shooting student, broken forests or trashed
flesh, then go get take away, it's a crime wave move on.

because i pitch the shift in ways in which it could mean
something
& i'm left with a pit
it's a crime wave move on
& it feels out of place to want to taste the things that don't
belong & leave the mess inside
it's a crime wave, push on

& it gets me every time, so erratic i can't speak, i hold to
the buzzing end & like a crime bite i set to it like filth,
like
history you know it's going to spill, like bad timing, like
regret,
& when there's no hole left to dig, & no mind left to spend &
no money left to learn, it will be pulp, a reality detective
thriller, you'll be the star and i'll have to remind you - 'hey,
it's a crime wave move on, there's nothing left to see here,
move along.'