Lyrics

The old country school Is now a crash pad And you're gone Yes, you're gone Yes, you're gone And the valley Is chopped up By Interstate 70 And the meadows Are dotted With real estate schemes And you're gone Yes, you're gone I know that the Sun rising is a temporary thing That the Sun obtuse on clouds at thirty-thousand feet from the airline windows Is an equal particle That raw as a shard, an astrakhan from a forbidden cycle of the eons Nor God nor pulsing phantom forever But that I live at the mansion of the Earth for eighty years in the warmth The children off to space, the chickens still crowing at Sun-up But our hearts beat lugubrium, lugubrium, lugubrium At raw's pink-fingered sinking Forty-two billion years, then zap, then forty-two, zap, we are caught The meat-chain borne of the prostate or out of the flashes of the vulva Caught, ended, slashed We are led by the [?] to the thin [?] to be slaughtered in droves Driven into the eyes and slashings of the manglers That little drama, no matter Forty-two, zap We are now in the electromagnetic cycle It lives Enormous breathings and compressions of It Well, the old country school Is now a crash pad And you're gone Yes, you're gone Yes, you're gone