Pink Floyd
     Pulse Concert 1994

   The drummers insane
   so glad that I came
   light extraordinaire
   alive in the atmosphere
   Pink Floyd troubadours
   cleanse us in abattoirs.
Strip our skin from within
and feed the devil our sin.

I'm broke and alone
into a river a stone
a desert bleach bone
don't answer a phone

My old blue veins
are a map to a lover
bleeding past stains
still left to discover.
Tomorrow never comes.
I am yesterday's news.
We were the only ones.
I sing tomorrows blues.

Here lies my innocence, my religion, my hope
and dreams and trust and my caring anymore.
I bury my despair and belief in another lover
next to my naivety. My bones are picked clean.
They are bleached in an O'Keeffe painting
next to the cattle skulls and scorpions.

God always delivers justice.
We might not believe in it.
Fear it as you feared the
whippings of your youth
or wronged lovers later
never happy with it all.
Truth is absolute and
time gets away from us.

I made it to the finish line.
Near dead on my feet still not
sure who won this race of
Pegasus runners not caught.

She was every kind of beautiful
  that ever was or ever will be.
  More so because she didn't care.
  We floated above the noise
  just us two in bed stars in our eyes
  consuming us numb to all else.

  Jealousy clawed its way back
  into my heart. It always does.
  It ruined every love I ever had.
  I'm old and still don't understand.
  I fear lust's sting. Green eyed
  monster always in the wings.

Just be my breath and heartbeat for a start.
   Be stories that tore beautiful through my heart.
   Every lust that ever brought me to an end,
   the absolute to my doubt, straight to my bend.
   Be my broken vows and promises forgiven.
   Be my gentle ending when I'm done livin'.

I'm a Bukowski
not a debutante
I know what I need
you know what I want