Rigor Mortis Poem by Neil Young

The earth, played out, seems forged with fear,
It bristles, stiffens, slowly fades
With introspection. Through the blear,
In our unease we move, bowed heads;
Eyes dare not catch the eyes in crowds.

Our long-filled faces, burrowed in
This stolid world of silence, ache.
A momentary smile may break,
So awkward, brief, merely polite,
When failing to avert our sight.

Mouths mime their cold songs. Drawing breath,
Lips scarcely move, then freeze to death
Again, as days assimilate
Our disbelief in any hope;
The obvolute, irresolute.

Born from inherent ignorance,
Preoccupied and paranoid,
Who eavesdrops far beyond the void?
Suspicions shall remain unhindered
As long the earth remains bewildered,

Listening for nothing...
Withdrawing to nothing...