the wheels are in spin, dear, hear their call for you.
you mind turns round and round – the birds just follow you.
choking on a siren in the breeze
the Cardinal falls from heaven with a wheeze.
falling is just flying without hope,
it’s ten for the money, none left for the road.
the highway is for dreamers – leave your common sense
in a lunchbox that’s labeled “pure coincidence”.
i’d tell you that it’s luck but: it’s the house
waiting on the hill with your three-cent spouse.
the Life-guard left his post take your faithful leap
in the present, all our futures go for cheap.
“the game is rigged,” They say, but, then, what do They know?
here’s your path, but first: just dig up all the snow.
dust off your brand new boots, they’re filled with soot
try these 5-D glasses, take a look
see, the game is yours, but be home before curfew
if you want to catch rue morgue’s new revue.
life pawns off issues, I’ve bought more than my fair share
if you’d like to read some, just look anywhere
the pay phone rings, you forgot your things at home
your willow clings to whats left of the loam
across there street there’s nothing left but gold:
it’s ten for the money, none left for the road