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