If I write a poem and you write a song If we paint a picture of ourselves and if we live that long we can read the poem in a book and hear the song on peoples tongues and look at the picture anytime
we can see how peoples faces look when they hear somebody sing the song and when they're pierced by every rhyme
If I die before you and you live to tell then every time a mouth is opened you know I'll be in hell in the hell of every persons voice a-flame in every weeper's eyes dying all the time
and if you cry when they rejoice at all our words and all our lies then, baby, do your time
Do your time and get to know the ghoul of art both high and low Come to the table with the microphone and dine on the perverted fruits of every seed we've sown
in every restaurant and mall the voice of God calls out to us and in his words we are
alone with every syllable and in their decency we trust until we've forgotten all