the city's blinkingnnon the tip of my tonguennand hollywood and vinenntastes like demon rumnnnnyeah, the clock tower ringsnnand the oil well dipsnnand my father still singsnnwhen hes taking a shitnnnnbut i'm burying my momnngripping tight my black ball bombnnfrom the bench to a benchnnthe marks on the wall said i grew an inchnnand the lava's been hard rock ever sincennnnthe moon said good-byenni'm not coming backnnnow the open night skynnis just a field of blacknnnnbut i'm still climbin my treennnow miles awaynnwatching pigeons diennin every possible waynnnnwe're all bouncing in the baby's rattlennin between fields of dirty cattlennnnin shipsnnwith sails hanging and rippednnthe captain's crown is from a paper kitnnand if the people want shit,nnthats what they getnnnnopen the floornnopen the floornnopen the floornnthere's someone underneath the stagennhe's crying with a patiencennnnhe knows all the linesnnhes heard them allnnthousands of timesnnbut he's willfully suspending disbeliefnnblack isnt black isnt black isnt black isnt blacknnnnsomewhere in between the dimlit barsnnand the glass walls and shimmering carsnnnnsomeone found a bullet for the old heirloomnnnow he's cuddled up tight underneath the living roomnnnnin a room of dinosaur bonesnnthe baby cries from the rolling thronennnnwith a hand in her purse, mamma strokes the gunnnsinging who won? who won?nnnnback at home, the walls are shakingnnshe's rewinding all the clocksnnnnwhile micky mouse laughs loud from in his cardboard box nnnnheads shake until ground breaks, and it's a lovely soundnnwhen black is back and eyeballs roll aroundnnnnwell look at what dinosaur found hovering above his groundnnit's the key to the country, shining like shitnnit's a cardboard fucking birthday crown--put it onnnnnand watch the knees hit the floornnheads sorry for the past,nnwe dont believe it anymorennwe know that sin isn't something to be sorry fornnnni love human beingsnnenough to make me sicknnbut i know their worknnwhen i see itnnnnif you are born onto the tangible landnnwith fucked up mind that cannot understandnnthe beliefs held by the common mannnthen life is a disaster and you'll kill it if you cannnthen you'll go to sleepnnand you will rest in peacennand you will never be sorrynnnni was shot down by a cavalrynnfiring their bullets aimlesslynni wasn't shooting to leave any deadnnno, i was aiming at the light bulbs above their headsnnnnnow i'm listening to a chain gently swingnnbeneath a spinning machinennafter a terrible dreamnnand GHOSTS are quickly moving through my roomnnsent from cars on Franklin Avennnnall the while you are watching carefully the flashing screennnfrom those old broken seats up on the mezzanienennand you'll never have to recognize my blue and bloodless facennbecause someone burned down the old wooden stair case