Buried Alive in the Blues

I said my goodbyes to the sun
my little one, so far away.
And how strange, how small we must become
yet as familiar as yesterday

The bluest iris that I'd ever seen
SHe vanished like a dream, sinking back
into the ground
Singing "maybe i'm ashamed and maybe I wept real tears"
but maybe she was hiding because she wanted to be found
You wanted to be found!

Don't be afraid of him.
Be still.


Prelude

She's got eyes like Zapruder
And a mouth like heroin
She wants me to be perfect like Kennedy
This isn't god, this isn't god
God is just a statistic
God is just a statistic
Say "show me the dead stars
All of them sing."
This is a riot
Religious and clean

God is a number you cannot count to
You are posthuman and hardwired

She's pilgrim and pagan
Softworn and so-cial
In all of her dreams
She's a saint like Jackie O

This isn't god, this isn't god
God is just a statistic

Coma white:
"All that glitters is cold, all that glitters is cold."

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