It’s a new year in an old house With more technology you’ll never understand Break out your typewriter with your “thees” and “thous” Smearing old words with your old hands You’ll call me Cassandra; I’ll call you King James And all we write is true and all of it insane But the changing of the seasons will forever stay the same, you say
The infantry’s retreating Like they knew how this would end Did you hear the Germans lost the war? I bet they could use a friend Right now supper’s getting cold Right now God is growing old Right now dialect is evolving Outside this house Or so I’m told
It’s a real fear for you and me Burning clothing just to keep the winter warm My fingers trace the gumline of a skeleton key Not caring whether it could open up the door And the faces at the window are children in the womb Black-eyed and still but growing every day You’ll die on the outisde or die in this room, either way
Our infancy’s receding We’re a heartbeat from the end Did you hear the madmen lost the war? I bet they could use a friend Right now supper’s getting cold Right now God is growing old Right now dialect is evolving Outside this house Or so I’m told
We’re stockpiling warheads, we’re stuck in the past Death is art, truth is beauty, and the first shall be last You’ll call me Athena; I’ll call you Monet When the world is falling down, crumbling like clay We’re hiding in caverns, forgetting our names We dissolve in our mythology like blood in the rain You’ll call me the lion; I’ll call you the lamb I am lost in all you are; you’re alive for what I am