"The Fireman"

Step stump nowhere to jump
Got a lighter, got a chord to strike
Gotta get a better lamp
Gotta lotta blood to spill
Gotta find a kid to kill
Gotta get these bricks to tumble
off my back
into the sack
within the crack

Looking up
The trees are blowing
In the wind
The steps are slowing
With the gin
The blood is flowing
Through the kin
The flies are growing
To the blend
Of midsummer fires
The restless lives
Of gentle pyres

Thrussel said "Into the light"
Terror constant in your night

The gentle tones of metal drones
Resonate from blackened cones
Like a whisper in a telephone
And a whimper for a banker's loan
Or a tired lonely outlaw's stone
Leonard Cohen sought to know him
I read about it in Tiny Tim
There is no future but the stone

Turn to choose
Another way
The thoughtless dreams
Of caustic days
That make us ill
Will write my will
Will reap the kill
Procure the bill

...And with no love,
control us still

1/22/2004