It's so weird that I find so much more
Comfort when the lights in my house
Are out and all the people have gone to
Dream in their little tiny dream gremlin-suits.
I won't even remember my mother's voice
Years from now, when I'm away and learn
About her horrible accident in the kitchen.
I won't even remember all the friends I hugged
So close to me when I told them goodbye, chao.
I will hold you know, smell you, try to hold on
But then you're gone, and I don't recall a thing.
All the carnies are home in their beard tanglings
And little tiny muscle-suits, and the ferris wheel
Is no longer lit up in our eyes. It's a carnival that
Left town two weeks ago, and we have nothing to
Say to one another: "I don't think this is working."
"Really? No shit Sherlock…"