Fast car connected with knee
I rolled over hood
Head connected with street
On pavement I started to bleed
Onlookers said Hail Mary's for me
Woke from a dead sleep last night
Felt a presence at my bedside
Cold lips pressed tightly to mine
The ghost of walking upright
Birds pick the ticks from the herds
Tongue loses grip on its words
Fast cars jump curbs
What we did in Swineburne Park wasn't worth much
But it's worth this remark:
We mated out of season and spent the winter grieving
You said there's gold in them there hills
You said there's pleasure in crushed pills
You said you'd take them over meals
God I hate the sound of your voice
You wanna be a rich Henry Darger
But it don't work that way, partner
You've gotta live in those trenches
You can't eat off real art
Birds pick the ticks from the herds
Tongue loses grip on its words
Fast cars jump curbs
What we did in Swineburne Park wasn't worth much
But it's worth this remark:
We mated out of season, spent our winter grieving
Oh Mr. Artist. I think you missed your calling
Heard you got a job on a road crew, just to eat
Heard you cry the whole time
"I've got a college degree!"
Heard you got a job at a niteclub, just to eat
Heard you cry the whole time
"They should be watching me!"
Here's a word from the Earth, here's her decree:
Don't care don't care don't care
Don't care don't care don't care