Thea Gilmore Follow

To catalog and number every stone cold dream
And I've seen Sal thumbing his way up to the stars
I've seen angels in the shooting galleries
And heroes in the bars

I've seen a death warrant out on the moon
I saw what happened when the prophet spoke too soon
And I heard the radio sneeze into the evening
And all the bat-squeak singers selling
Fake hope to the sleeping

I've seen the cover up of cold hard facts
Burning acid holes in the magazine racks
I saw Jenny have a baby in the street
Where they're playing blindman's bluff
Between the dying and the concrete

I've seen a paper corpse holing up a doorway
I heard the lonely voices singing, "Yeah, I did it your way"
And I held the future up to a looking glass
It bears a striking resemblance to the embers of the past

I've seen the chorus girls the ribbon and the rot
Seen electoral debates on the glass-rim of a whiskey shot
And I caught the glimmer in a hurricane's eye
I've seen these AK-47's with their noses to the sky

I smelled the ghosts of the ashes and the orchids
I've got promises tattooed on the insides of my eyelids
And I'll be watching when the Richter reaches 10
I bled by these weapons, babe and now I'm one of them

To catalog and number every stone cold dream
And I've seen Sal thumbing his way up to the stars