the city's blinking   on the tip of my tongue   and hollywood and vine   tastes like demon rum      yeah, the clock tower rings   and the oil well dips   and my father still sings   when hes taking a shit      but i'm burying my mom   gripping tight my black ball bomb   from the bench to a bench   the marks on the wall said i grew an inch   and the lava's been hard rock ever since      the moon said good-bye   i'm not coming back   now the open night sky   is just a field of black      but i'm still climbin my tree   now miles away   watching pigeons die   in every possible way      we're all bouncing in the baby's rattle   in between fields of dirty cattle      in ships   with sails hanging and ripped   the captain's crown is from a paper kit   and if the people want shit,   thats what they get      open the floor   open the floor   open the floor   there's someone underneath the stage   he's crying with a patience      he knows all the lines   hes heard them all   thousands of times   but he's willfully suspending disbelief   black isnt black isnt black isnt black isnt black      somewhere in between the dimlit bars   and the glass walls and shimmering cars      someone found a bullet for the old heirloom   now he's cuddled up tight underneath the living room      in a room of dinosaur bones   the baby cries from the rolling throne      with a hand in her purse, mamma strokes the gun   singing who won? who won?      back at home, the walls are shaking   she's rewinding all the clocks      while micky mouse laughs loud from in his cardboard box       heads shake until ground breaks, and it's a lovely sound   when black is back and eyeballs roll around      well look at what dinosaur found hovering above his ground   it's the key to the country, shining like shit   it's a cardboard fucking birthday crown--put it on      and watch the knees hit the floor   heads sorry for the past,   "we dont believe it anymore   we know that sin isn't something to be sorry for"      i love human beings   enough to make me sick   but i know their work   when i see it      if you are born onto the tangible land   with fucked up mind that cannot understand   the beliefs held by the common man   then life is a disaster and you'll kill it if you can   then you'll go to sleep   and you will rest in peace   and you will never be sorry      i was shot down by a cavalry   firing their bullets aimlessly   i wasn't shooting to leave any dead   no, i was aiming at the light bulbs above their heads      now i'm listening to a chain gently swing   beneath a spinning machine   after a terrible dream   and GHOSTS are quickly moving through my room   sent from cars on Franklin Ave      all the while you are watching carefully the flashing screen   from those old broken seats up on the mezzaniene   and you'll never have to recognize my blue and bloodless face   because someone burned down the old wooden stair case