Big Brass Bed

If I could lie in a bed of moss

and sleep and dream the nights away

I'd make the world count its cost

for a big brass bed

And rivers would lullaby me to sleep

as I'd curl up in a blanket of leaves

while you'd doze off to the drone of police

and the firing of lead

All the children are nestled snug in their beds

All the tvs blare curses and laugh at the dead

and the vagabond runs from this Vagabond Age

For the castles down the block have electric private eyes

and the neighbor gives you looks that say you're somewhat despised

and your car that's been stolen makes you almost want to cry out for

the firing of lead.

You shuffle your papers you'll take to the zoo

you frown on the way and then smile upon cue

and everyone know just what they're supposed to do

for their big brass bed

If I could lie in green pastures and rest

far from alarms and the cold hard cement

I'd send all the world my bill for its rent

and its big brass bed