(alexander)
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luther's windows are littered with nothing
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a crystal, a picture, a dead potted sage
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a dusty white curtain, the nose prints of a dog
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a shot glass collection from his truck driving days
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luther's bedroom is as hot as an oven
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with air that's as stale as old forgotten bread
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in a cage on the dresser there's a parrot that talks
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but her name over and over is all that it says
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turn your back to the sun
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you see only shadows
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look beneath the stars
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you see only night
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like a homesick sailor
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luther's standing in the window
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watching the world floating by him tonight
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luther's hands once held a chain
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with keys to a home and a blue chevrolet
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now he lives with his mother, steals all her liquor
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and chain smokes and stares at the ceiling for days
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turn your back to the sun
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you see only shadows
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look beneath the stars
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you see only night
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like a homesick sailor
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luther's standing in the window
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watching the world floating by him tonight
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luther's sitting by himself on the sofa
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with his head bowed down but his eyes are open wide
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having a one man revival with an electronic bible
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listening to the parade going by
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and the bass drum is pounding, the trumpets are bleating
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and he's reading a verse from st. john
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a trickle of light seeps through the blind
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luther pulls down the shade until he makes up his mind
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well, turn your back to the sun
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you see only shadows
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look beneath the stars
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you see only night
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like a homesick sailor
|
luther's standing in the window
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watching the world floating by him tonight
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it's floating by him tonight
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Luther's windows
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| The Badlees |
