Grandpa Aaron prophesied
The year the messengers would arrive
In living ships
That burn next to the sky
Home from school
I'm on suspension
For selling all my of Ritalin
Mare makes eggs
Then she gets down to business
By 3 she's comatose
Dark den
Snowy television
So I'm learning “Cherub Rock”
On an ex's electric guitar
A flat affect
But I really care
I see some far-out shit that isn't there
It's in our blood
And our dust-colored hair
Mare's been toast since ‘84
She lost some friends
Then she lost some more
She sent letters and Violent Femmes to John Hinckley
When she had me she was 39
A pickled Pearl, but I was pretty much fine
When the future's written
You just kinda have to resign to it
Any day
We'll escape from our heads
From the chain of consequences
And ascend
Mama, I can't leave you here in hell
Anywhere I go I'm still myself
I'm a tunnel caving in
And a goddamn great American
Any day
We'll escape from our heads
From the chain of consequences
And recall everything forgotten
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