On the top shelf, three bells, twelve years old Turn the middle bottle clockwise twice Pull the pool cue rack and the back comes loose Now crawl on your knees And follow where it leads
There on Easter grass from last year's basket In a Nike box from '92 Are the keys to the barman's Carmen Ghia A three-day lead at least Leave this place in peace
6:03, the city is asleep And these streets are seven seas of confetti in the breeze When dawn comes and I'm waiting on the beach like a slow sucking leech for someone Is it you? Is it you? Stashed under the dash is a ragged map Preset 3 is the secret frequency The dot-dash code tells what back road Come forthright at dawn In one month with white scarf on
6:03, the city is asleep And these streets will grieve a million Mardi Gras beads When on comes Each one glistening like a Super Bowl ring in the sun Is it you? Is it you?
In the dearth of your wakefulness on Earth You might purchase some Safeway eggs of course In one might be your friend, a paper fortune, or a key Then wouldn't you be divinely obliged to inquire and see? Don't think so, well you know me and my kind I might change, you might change your mind