Hungry roaring metal birds
exhaust the naive sky, perch on
gra**less welts of ten-lane dead-end
runway. Concrete scars cross
fertile bulgeland, bury living
ghostfaces in a pavement race to
nowhere.
Take your sorrow to the sun.
Give your tears back to the moon.
Have you heard the news
from nowhere lately?
Welcome to the oracle,
ask the sibyl what she says:
In the fusion of communion,
when the I becomes the We.
A cherished chance
or a charity case,
a dizzying dance,
a call from grace:
Lift faith's veil
and kiss fate's face -
outrageous dangerous
fall from grace.
No longer elsewhere seek the light.
That lie is wearing thin.
The distant destined pilgrim site
can be revived within.
The miracle that conquers fear:
Wield the power of the seer.
That voice that all first die to hear
whispers in your ear.
Truth shall tell the turtle's shell,
spell words birds write
while in flight.
Tongue the honey of the only,
when the lie ceases to be!
Next stop: the swimming hole.
Be sure to take your sungla**es, folks,
and don't forget to leave an offering.
You can hang your wet underwear
over the grille of the buss if you get
back here soon enough.
So soak away your sins in the
soothing sulfur springs.
Welcome, folks, to Aqua Caliente!
A cherished chance
or a charity case,
a dizzying dance,
a call from grace:
Lift faith's veil
and kiss fate's face -
outrageous dangerous
fall from grace.
What we craved is what we thought
could soothe us in the grave.
Thought bravely sought, all came to sought,
'cause what we got is what we gave.
Take your sorrow to the sun.
Give your tears back to the moon.
Have you heard the news
from nowhere lately?
Welcome to the oracle.
Be like sibyls, dare to see:
When the I becomes the We.