another heart beating real slow   in cold storage   waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting   a transplant without a chest      the color bleeds into the room   morning still suffers last night's wrung out moon      inside there's water   is it slowing to ice?   and you're spending the day   quietly alive      if you see a fearsome cloud of dust   with a million arms and legs   which spin like plates in orbit   round half as many radiant heads   it could be that the rapture came   and we're the ones who're left   so while the faithful play bridge up in the sky   we cry, we cry   it's ours! it's ours now!   the abandoned cities and towns now   all that good green gaining ground now      o the bears wake up & shake their heads   flowers stand up in their beds   & all the rest of us left for dead come down   & we all parade around