Through the rain And all the clatter Under the fremont bridge I saw a pigeon fly Fly in fear from a raptor Come to take its life
And as it closed In for the capture I funneled the fear through my ancient eyes To see in flight What I know are the bitter mechanics of life
Under my hat it reads "The lines are all imagined" A fact of life I know to hide from my little girls I know my place amongst the bugs And all the animals And it's from these ordinary people You are longing to be free
My hotel And on the tv A preacher on a stage Like a buzzard cries Out a warning A phony sorrow He's trying to get a rise The cyanide of an almond Let him look at your hands Get the angles right Ace of spades Port of morrow Life is death is life
I saw a photograph Cologne in '27 And then a postcard After the bombs in '45 Must've been a world of evil clowns That let it happen But now I recognize Dear listeners That you were there And so was I
Under my hat I know the lines are all imagined A fact of life I must impress on my little girls I know my place amongst the creatures In the pageant And there are flowers in the garbage And a skull under your curls
