When all the pieces fall away
and the precious night covers up the day
Who will sit and pass the time beside us
and hear the stories we kept inside us?
Remember when we walked to the ice house
and drank cold Big Red on the way back?
We went from one island of shade to the other.
Cicadas were the alien army
Van Halen was the soundtrack
Of all the days
in all these ways
those crappy beach chairs
on the porch,
were the thrones from which
we saw our future
Let's play pretend that
all of this means something
even though, the world is going
crazy and people are fighting
over dust and rubble
there's fire in the air and
we can't afford a bucket of chicken
The universal god light is
in the house and seven
angels are yelling "what the fuck!!?"
Let's all duck and cover
outside the pop up fusion food truck
cause this is the last good gig
the rumble of disarray and the ashes of good times
If this is the end times, like old times
I see myself geared up with guns and a scrappy knife
reading all the glowing signs
looking for others clinging to the bitter type of life
it's probably hard to see, but it's more comical than scary
like the Oregon trail, to die from the dirty dysentery
