Go home, the search has been called off

you could have brought me rainbows
and I might have carried on
embracing manufactured glee
that fills my mouth with softer songs

but I prefer the poster art

in music halls that whirl and pop
to glossy bursts of noisy words
that paper garish hobbyshops

does the world still need survivors
if we've given up the cause
where does discontentment go
when its vessel turns up lost

and why must reason need a cause?