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Primitive Radio Gods Rocket Standing Outside A Broken Phone Booth With Money I Jan lays down and wrestles in her sleep moonlight spills on comic books and superstars in magazines an old friend calls and tells us where to meet her plane takes off from Baltimore and touches down on Bourbon Street we sit outside and argue all night long about a god we've never seen but never fails to side with me Sunday comes and all the papers say Ma Theresa's joined the mob and happy with her full time job am I alive or thoughts that drift away? does summer come for everyone? can humans do what prophets say? and if I die before I learn to speak can money pay for all the days I lived awake but half asleep? a life is time, they teach you growing up the seconds ticking killed us all a million years before the fall you ride the waves but don't ask where they go you swim like lions through the crest and bathe yourself in zebra flesh I've been downhearted baby ever since the day we met |
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