Part IV: dance, monkey, dance
we’ve had this date from the beginning...
We are the cigarette ash at the bottom
of the glass, the last drawn-out gasp.
You and I share a dream called life;
the curtain falls, the seats abandoned
long before the last lonely applause
You’re so beautiful when you’re dying
so clapclapclap your hands and
stampstampstamp your feet.
The canary’s flown, the cage
hangs lonely above my head as
stars fall so gracefully.
And sometimes I wish I could take
what’s left of my bones, what’s left of my skin
and sew it together into something
so dance, monkey, dance.
dance for the dead, dance for the living,
dance for that banana on a string,
the temptation drawing you forward.
Dance, monkey, dance
cause no one wants to dance alone.
Part V: this’ll be the day that I die
I watched the moon rise over santa rose airport
watched the silver rain down on the runway
I tasted paradise for seventeen minutes
now the rest of my life is pain.
I wrestled sunshine from the bottom of a glass
I drained the last of my life through the flask now broken on the floor,
crank the volume, draw the curtains
the circus is leaving town.
and the three men that I admire the most
are eating scrambled eggs and charcoaled toast
they’re burning down the Sunday roast in the park
as the children all scream, they’re life is a dream.
Saturday sun drips down through my skin
Sunday night is hitting me hard
Monday runs a knife in the back of my brain
Tuesday’s got me by the arm again.
Wednesday I go out drinking
Thursday drains the last of the life from my veins
Come Friday I’ll be writing the last of the lines on the wall,
quote after quote I will scream:
“Farewell, American Dream
Turns out your not as strong as you seem
and they’re sharing a toast in heaven tonight
over the falling of the last great Age
Drove my chevy to the end of the road, stalled the engine
the cliff never saw it coming.
And as the last of the stars bid adieu to the night, I’ll say:
This will be the day that I die.”