In a Radio Song

Black sheep boy,

blue-eyed charmer,

head hanging with horns

from your father.

Oh,

in a cold little mirror you were grown,

by a black little wind you were blown,

alone, alone, alone.

Cold smile on your lips,

you shake and shiver.

Some animal sips where the river flows

from a black little crack in a stone.

To a crackle in a radio song,

sing along, sing along, sing along.

Warm light when your eyes

fill with laughter.

Some animal lies in the pasture,

holes in its throat where the

blood was drawn,

in its mouth where the tongue

was torn by your claws,

your claws, your claws.

I rose from a dream;

We were running

from every being

that was hunting,

but we let them get ahead of us.

We let them lie in wait for us.

We're fucked, we're fucked, we're fucked.

I rose from a dream;

I had just destroyed everything

with one crushing blow,

and I woke up and watched it go,

and I woke up and wagged my tongue.

So long, so long, so long