hullo darling
a rain of frogs is expected
and no one knows how long
before the fire and floods are gone
or when the new age can be detected

you guess your gravity
win a flea
greasy fields encircle me
and we drown in drivel dreams
driving down the vague highways
of a cliche nation

One nation under Satan
and other boring things
people love to flake on about...

gotta say we're just hunkering down here
like we were before
in the slush and sludge and gore
like a needle in the hay
it's always been armageddon for us anyway

Too bad baby
we never finished our argument du jour
it was so expensive, and exquisitely prepared
you were about to read the menu of my misdeeds
but I arrived late for the tour

Then the tornados tore down our panic room in the shanty town
and the desolate delusions were no match for the slanting rays
of desperate daybreak in the high grey country
where the blue wind blows, and the buffalo play

The winter storm feeds the trees
and the beetles can't compete
The riverbank sweeps the streets
as history repeats

These are days of fill-in-the-blank
My time is motion that I will carry out in due course
this wing of love, this foolish assembly
I mean to leave it, and you, if baffled, somewhat improved.

This is how you'll know
the sun will stop crying.