A song for my wife and child.
(Featured: Allene House Coffee Grinder, Kitchen Sink and Baker's Rack #3)
You were brought up in the temple of the god of the setting sun,
You were a cutthroat and you were willful,
A spastic love and a terror from the ethylene.
I was raised up in the new wave to the duck-faced and the lame,
When their flesh just dripped out of cutoff bluejeans,
At Marion Square I was guilty by association.
To kick off the Third Great War,
The priests blew trumpets and priestesses handed out lunch sacks to the poor boys,
On either side of the dividing line.
And you went crazy into a prophecy from your oleander cigarettes,
And I started whistling a tune I'd heard in a peace dream,
And you grabbed another lunch sack and cut line in front of me.
I dragged you naked into my dark tomb,
And wrapped you like a mummy in the perfumed cloth of things I'd done but never did do,
A day at the races was talking to you.
You dragged me naked into the bedroom and put me into a trance,
In eighty years I might make a good groom,
But you don't put new sauce in an old spoon.
So a Leo and Leo make a Capricorn,
My stars, out of the belly of the old man comes a new form,
One year closer to the end of Third Great War.
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