tonight there's a fire in texas & it's screaming out for the all the bodies it's lost there in some grand american war in someone else's glorious battle
the backyard tree was too high for you to climb & so you took a jaunt to the brooklyn bridge and jumped to see what it was like to fly
& tonight there's a fire in her chest that bleeds for her father's bones to be buried next to hers even though for years he didn't know her name or what her laugh sounded like i guess he forgot to check the post
& tonight there's a broadcast on the radio the presidents been assassinated & somehow that's your fault for being to open about your love for your best friend, tom who also happens to be a boy
& tomorrow there'll be an earthquake in memphis & it'll be because there's too much *** on tv god must be flapping his wings hard enough to shake our great and grand scheme of things
& yesterday a little girl lay awake in her bed counting her ribcage to make sure she can see every bone she's praying she won't lose track of them under the meat
& tonight i will drink a tall glass of wine so i can feel something other than all the pain we've created for each other