Another Radio Song

Sit back, no song is written

It's nothing you thought of Yourself

It's just a ghost, came unbidden

To this house

This infection gets stronger every year

This seed in the water of your tear

There is no escaping it

This seed in the water of your tear

The way an unborn baby's ear

Unfolds in your belly

This infection gets stronger every year

This direction of a tear rolling down your cheek

And there is no escaping it

There is no escaping

The thing that is making

It's home in your radio

Bless this tiny alley

we have fallen from tall buildings

we have fallen through the air

Into a garden sweetly smelling of the softest

Sleeping flowers now they sit under the sidewalk

Now they're waiting for the shining of some future sun to show us

All that is your beauty

Oh and all that brings you pleasure

I could sigh into your hide

And say I hope I'm here forever

But Black Sheep Boy with your lovers

With your list of favorite pillows

with your list of missing children

With the wall where you drew windows

Overlooking hidden gardens

Cut apart by jagged mountains

Climbing up into the air

And crumbling down into a fountain

Where the water waits forever

Like a quiet distant treasure

When you rise up to recover

When you leave this tiny alley

When you meet me in the garden

With your horns all hung with cedar

Every spirit brushing past me

Brushing past them in the ether

Scream all this is window dressing

All you are is flimsy curtains

Watch you flame up with a word from us

And won't know that you're Burning!

Burning

Burning!

(There's no escaping

The thing that is making

It's home in your radio

There's no escaping

The thing that is making

It's home in your radio)