Bluebirds in a Fight

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These are your nuclear provisions The past is a joke played on the future by the present There is no cure for your decisions The future’s a joke played on the present by the past If I asked you to pull the cord from the phone Would you waltz me back to Babylon Could you sit there and watch me pull a sword from the stone Just to keep the cable on (Ah, and is it enough) I got a busy signal from the neighborhood watch I saw the trash collector piss in a cup You know it happens but you never get to see it Like a slasher flick victim taking time To spell out “help” with the drip of their blood It’s a private decline A private decline A barreling forward Toward some form of bold new sorrows I was in the garden, I just didn’t make a sound | became a comicstrip snowball I became a space-age locomotive Barreling forward toward some warm, some cold tomorrows But as of late it feels I’m just one guy/one gal/one serpent-bound And none of what I witnessed in the garden Even really seems worth it now It’s just a quiet descent A quiet descent A quiet descent into fertile ground A private concert from the daybreak band Bluebirds in a fight Ray Beez’ pneumonic trees howl away what’s left of the night A river mumbling some wisdom ignored A wisecrack from a stick in the mud I was in the garden, I was wounded, I was stricken with love But you don’t always get the kind of help you need in time From “help” written in blood (“help” written in blood) We’ll form in private assembly A tribal gathering intertwined With the patience of a knot in the log flume wood You wouldn’t rattle us if you tried For these are our nuclear provisions Long are the days Gone are the girls These are our hour-by-hour decisions We can try but we can’t fight Our way out of this wet paper world It’s a primal design and it’s gated in pearl A private concert from the big-bang band Bluebirds in a fight Barreling privately toward trying to be just one guy When I was in the garden I was five for five Started out a slasher flick victim Then I became a space-age locomotive Now I’m just trying to get out (I’m just trying to get out) I’m just trying to get out of this life alive With these, my nuclear provisions Gone are the girls Long are the nights These are my nuclear provisions Long gone are the girls Gone wrong are the nights And what of I are my decisions? A joke played on the future again Bluebirds in a fight