Baby's ball is all blood red like flayed pigs

And silk soft little things

Fill a house hung from strings

And I fly out on my silver, scissoring wings

With the other sardines

Over cities of things mommies need

Light as gas, and half-assedly free

Like I was in nineteen ninety three

Over the ruins like we're staggering apes

What we get is what we take

In a split open place where a man can get kinged

In a palace of panic and flames

Where nobody gets blamed

By the tired and broke down and beat

In sunken gardens where there was a street

West over water I rambled and paced

And the blood river raced

Like the sweat down my face

And the stadium roared and the warriors embraced

And the golden shore groaned beneath the weight of my tastes

And I blazed

In the last orange hours of the day

Until the dust hazed and hid us away

So little baby, be brave

I see your dad riding over the rise

His whole cavalcade

Watch them run on all sides

And the neon white branches and the carrion fly

On a congressman's eye

I have wrapped up for you in some old autumn leaves

And left under a rock out on rock- rockaway beach

Beneath the trees

I have laughed my best hiss to the whistling breeze

There's a hole in my throat

You can note my last wheeze if you need

And then take hold of the rope

And down we scream