An astronaut lost his finger
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To the back of a grain truck
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And I can't stop thinking about it.
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I'm thinking about it.
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Thinking about it, I'm thinking about it.
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Isn't everything strange?
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Buildings as brick boxes to be opened,
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Turned sideways and cracked.
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Except the water that is inside is much too fluid, too fast.
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The you and I that spiral past the windowsill,
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The fire escape is on it's back,
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Watching us swallowed up in the blue and green.
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Flaring in the air with the vapor trails from all the first pages.
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The same two color contrails that twist around every other color left
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Crowded out.
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A record played.
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The lights go out.
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The Cineplex screen presents new strangled spectrums.
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What we mean:
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Swallowed up, swallowed up, swallowed up in the blue and green.
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1979 in a field with a bloody thumb.
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Alone with the whir of the grain wheel hum.
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Ten years since he saw us all.
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He came back to never look another in the eye the same way again.
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He walked inside, put his finger in the ice and didn't flinch at all.
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He came back to never look another in the eye the same way again.
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He walked inside, put his finger in the ice.
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She walked inside, he didn't flinch at all.
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She walked inside, put his finger in the ice.
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She walked inside, he didn't flinch at all.
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-----------------
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All The First Pages
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| Anathallo |
