The coffee beanery was about to explode   Or was it a field    Nobody knows   Nobody saw it coming   But for days   The forecast predicted frost   The TV's radiated ice      The Toyota became a baked Alaska   And if we took out our spoons   The windshield wipers scraping beneath   A little work for dessert   If every course would put up a good fight first      All that you build will probably fall someday    Then you'll be left with only Polaroids   So, what I want to know is when the sky caves in   Who's gonna pick up the pieces then      The signs, they were all there before   A blink of barrette the waves crashing down on the colonials   Everybody said "don't get caught, darling, you gonna end up in a Folgers tin"   But even they liked the storm   And they drive me batty when they say things like that   'Cause you know I've heard the stories, too   Oh I've heard the wives' tale    Where Polly at a load of stale reunion bread   And got killed by one of her seven Siamese cats   Never did want an American short-hair 'cause they've got bones to pick       All that you build will probably fall someday   Then you'll be left with only Polaroids   So, what I want to know is when the sky caves in   Who's gonna pick up the pieces then      I had a dream about Helena where she was strumming her cello like it was a banjo   We got drunk and danced in the sand dunes 'till she said   "Why don't we go and see about that parade?"       And James with his beard which is down to his knees, is    Probably in Asia chewing on a coil of ginseng and he's    Writing me every week about the big beautiful world   I kind of want to be a part of it.      All that you build will probably fall someday   Then you'll be left with only Polaroids   So, what I want to know is when the sky caves in   Who's gonna pick up the pieces then