George's Skies

歌詞

George's hit code red again, a downright 2 & 8 Holding a walking bellow like he was the mighty and distant purge Of the Swatted Ball in an old Warner Bros. cartoon: All mouth and jangling tongue yawing toward the downtown skyline As designed by lung and carnal rage The curtains above him peel inward and fall quickly back in place And George cuts the engines; goes slouch beneath a nearby stoop And roils in adagio, rocking back and forth, secretly intent Almost monkish It's clear he's through with the kid's stuff No tears, no more of the same ageless sorrows, none of it Any last grief will just have to wait till the bottom of that tall boy He's got hitched in his back pocket appears, you bet It's clear there will be no more querulous fits for today. It's payback time George's time. A daily shit Starring George: squat over a cardboard box His face an opaque drift of frowns under a mess of cloacal black hair And beard, gazing skyward and back as though suddenly land-weary And adoring of the ocean's broader firmaments The coastal bulkheads lit pink and purple at their bellies Are coming in fast and with credible heft from the sea And they hit the cipher in him, that shape of mercy he takes in sleep Once the beer and day have done him in. A frozen and ponderous Form of him, looking as dead as those of shock-bombed cities, flung Immobile and hewn to the pavement