Dead in the water
It's not a paid vacation
The sons and daughters of city officials

Attend demonstrations
It's hardly a sink or swim
When all is well if the ticket sells


Out with a whimper
It's not a blaze of glory

You look down from your temple
As people endeavor to make it a story
And chisel a marble word

But all is lost if it's never heard

But I've got someone to make reports

That tell me how my money's spent
To book my stays and draw my blinds
So I can't see what's really there

And all I need's a great big congratulations

I'll keep your dreams

You pay attention for me
As strange as it seems
I'd rather dissolve than have you ignore me

The ground may be moving fast
But I tied my boots to a broken mast


The difference is clear
You throw it in your cauldron
Rust and veneer, dusk and dawn

Steinways and Baldwins
You start with a simple stock of all the waste
And salt to taste


But damn my luck and damn these friends
That keep on combing back their smiles

I save my grace with half-assed guilt
And lay down the quilt upon the lawn
Spread my arms and soak up congratulations