Through the dark
glassily
in a neighborhood where
loneliness is but a salt
shaker of dreams
in a port of stormy
maggots
leaning toward the light
toward heaven and its
prospects
prospecting for streets
of gold
to its holiest depths
when what is hell
is growing old
kicked to the curb
out in some suburb
of grease and candlelight
making the best of
one's shittiest days
where you wear
your scars on the inside
for all to see as something
that seems to be something
else
that seems to be something
else
that may not be what you think it
is
are you mental
too sentimental
it's elemental
to the essential meaning
of nothing
take the train to nowhere
where thinking invites pain
visions of a country lane
two sides of the same
coin
in a Buddhist trance
and I just want to see you
without any pants
and we can prance
into a frenzied night
from here to eternity
if you'll only
Be My Baby
be my baby now--a oww
oh whoah oh oh oh...
