Fever induced haze stole the dreams from the onset of sleep
Turned them to cigarettes lit at the gas pump
And indignation down both ends of the street
The first day we ran like bats out of Hell
The next we collapsed entirely
Swallowed by the Little Miami, ending up somewhere new
Like we planned it all along
All eyes averted as the calender hung itself
For the last time, and cried for November the twenty fourth
But the time stamped behind our eyes remained
Deep December year round
No fire came from the skies to melt the lonely West like the preacher told us
But we'd stopped listening long ago
So who knows how the speech ended, or if it just trailed off in tepid resignation
I suppose we could always just wait for the world to melt itself instead