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"He can't get away with by the timeHe gets in front of the juryHe'll be a good boy", said man one |
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At a little before five o'clock |
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He went through the basement"Yes or no?", demanded man two |
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Bantering humor dry in his throat"Is there more than what she gave you?" |
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Questioned man three as a growing flicker |
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Waved across his eyes, "No" |
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The space surrounds constitutes a classic climate |
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This happens to now everyone in the room |
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You feel traces, a dying sound |
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Listen to the time of your life |
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Standstill, panic stricken |
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Ringing the bells of a empty houses |
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Someone answers and calls you |
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Transfixed by committed you say"I ain't no guillotine" |
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The girl spoke from the doorway in her rasping voice"What he wants is in the house" |
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The words hung there for a moment |
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Bending forward she plucked |
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She plucked the ashes from his cigarette |
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And said something nobody could understand |
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Nobody could understand, nobody could understand |
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One moment of irritation |
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You call back, "Why me?" |
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The vantage point above the street |
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Can be exhilarating |
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Falling back to a perspective odyssey |
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A track of thunder tower lust of decomposed intensity |
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I am, I am, |
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I am, I am |
