we know of an ancient radiation.
|
that haunts dismembered constellations,
|
a faintly glimmering radio station.
|
while frank sinatra sings stormy weather,
|
the flies and spiders get along together,
|
cobwebs fall on an old skipping record.
|
|
beyond the suns that guard this roof,
|
beyond your flowers of flaming truths,
|
beyond your latest ad campaigns,
|
an old man sits collecting stamps
|
in a room all filled with chinese lamps.
|
he saves what others throw away.
|
he says that he'll be rich some day.
|
|
we know of an ancient radiation
|
that haunts dismembered constellations,
|
a faintly glimmering radio station.
|
|
|
we know of an ancient radiation
|
|
that haunts dismembered constellations,
|
|
a faintly glimmering radio station.
|
|
while frank sinatra sings stormy weather,
|
|
the flies and spiders get along together,
|
|
cobwebs fall on an old skipping record.
|
|
-----------------
|
Frank Sinatra
|
| Cake |
