Our Turn Beneath the Wheel

from by Matt Kresling

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Metal, metal to horizon,
sea of cars and level rising.
Driving to our own demise
into its metal jaws and headlight eyes.

But it’s not over yet,
while there’s still hope for a

The car killed the age of horses
and tempted men with the fruits of contoured steel
and now it’s our turn beneath the wheel
(but even our extinction beats walking).

As the air itself begins to darken
and the neighbor’s omen won’t stop barking,
can you look around and say it’s working?
The road to hell is paved…
and parking’s terrible,
Is there still hope for a
Dystopia, dystopia.

The horse and carriage succumbed to car and driver
and soon we’ll understand how that must feel
when it’s our turn beneath the wheel
(but even our extinction beats cycling).

It happens slowly, so slowly
no one knows what’s gone.
In a true dystopia,
no one notices what’s wrong.
You don’t notice,
baby, you don’t notice—
you’ve got your headset on.

What kind of backwards fool endorses
whatever the alternate course is?
It was worse when we relied on horses;
embroiled in our wars for hay.

Charge at thrice the speed of horses,
as if we fear that someone else may steal
our turn beneath the wheel.


from 2, released December 31, 2011
guitar & drums: jake krohn, bass: remco vander heide




Matt Kresling Los Angeles, California

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