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