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Do you know how many cities had been built |
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On the mainland and the trains there |
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How they'd glide over the marshes and the hazy sea |
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Carrying business men in starched collar shirts |
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Who peered out windows that would fog |
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Faster than you could wipe them, man |
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Why are there mountains |
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Then the last fire dies |
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We rebuild with foundations |
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Set just slightly higher |
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On compacted ash and bone |
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Spiralling skyward at the GWB |
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Will you take the wheel for a while |
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I'm suddenly real tired |
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We two running our course |
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Your summer version |
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Was so fresh and fertile emerald green |
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The wind in your hair |
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Like wind Russian through the canopy |
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And I was green too with robust fucked envy |
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And the way suspension bridges shake |
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When you're stopped behind trucks |
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Sailing into 1999 |
