The Willamette River ran beneath the Ferris wheel and the midway Swinging in the evening air are neon swords and paper lanterns So many stories begin in the middle And nothing goes together better than the good and the bad Music from a darkened car pouring from a rolled-down window Parked above the carnival in a garden filled with roses So many colors move and lose themselves, what does it Matter when you are young and eyes are wide Night birds in the pines What does it matter? Things will come and go What does it matter? And leave you alone What does it matter? And will let you down But nothing goes together better than the good and the bad All along the corridor folding chairs feign opera boxes People come before the dawn with radios and paper cups of coffee One by one the procession moves along Some people wait for magic while the tragic wait for something to go wrong (Night birds in the pines) No, nothing goes together better Than the good and the bad Than fiction and the facts Than the highs and the lows Than two night-birds, I suppose