From the height of the highway onramp We saw two dogs, dead in a field Glowing on the Oakland Coliseum Green seats wasteland Dogs, dogs we thought were dead They rose up, rose up when whistled at Their rib cage inflating Like men on the beach being photographed A guard dog, guard dog for what, for what Against tofers ellis penniless athletic fanatics Getting into games through a whole in the fence For the owners of the blue tarp tent Pitched by a creek, beneath an onramp In the privacy of the last three Skin and bony tree, devoid of leaves And us undeceased and our new CD's Dippin' on goodies, Oakland
It's hard to stand the sight of Two dogs dead under a sky so blue You have to stop the blood to your head To fit the breath in front of you
We secretly long to be some part of a car crash Long to see your arms stripped off the tendons The nudity of swelling exposed vein Webbibg the back of your hand To be a red-tendoned dog To be red-tendoned dogs Blood breathing by the side of the highway
I long to be dead Center of a curious crowd To be touched Sticky, like nearly dried paint Their soft silent stare nursing your face Anticipating the slightest pinch I flinch of pain Everyone blank in accident awe As the car crash fiberglass dust Straight up settles on your raw muscle tissue
Against my misery I don't think I've seen my screeching pain I can now feel what's around us It is some sort of harmony The harmony of overwhelming murder