Through the rain And all the clatter Under the Fremont bridge I saw a pigeon fly Fly in fear from the raptor Come to take its life And as it closed in for the capture I funneled the fear Through my ancient eyes To see in flight what I know are The bitter mechanics of life Under my hat it reads "The lines are all imagined" A fact of life I know to hide From my little girls I know my place amongst The bugs and all the animals And its from these ordinary people You are longing to be free. My hotel and on the TV A preacher on a stage Like a buzzard cries Out a warning Of phony sorrow He's trying to get a rise The cyanide From an almond Let him look at your hands Get the angles right Ace of Spades Port of Morrow Life is death is life. I saw a photograph; Cologne in '27 And then a postcard After the bombs in'45 Must have been a world Of evil clowns that let it happen But now I recognize Dear Listeners, That you were there and So was I Under my hat I know The lines are all imagined A fact of life I must Impress on my little girls I know my place amongst The creatures in the pageant And there are flowers in the garbage And a skull under your curls