This she did in public for us to see.
She came in here too drunk to do the show.

Between the trains and cars,
broken glass and lost hub-caps,
images of a gun.

Row house, row house, pass through,
let the city rise up to fill the screen.
Clothes flung out of closets, doorknobs falling off.

The guitar guy played real good feedback,
and super sounding riffs.
With his mild mannered look on,
yeah, he was truly hip.

The girl started out in red patent leather,
very: "I'm in a band with knee pads".
We watch her fall over and lay down,
shouting the poetic truths of high school journal keepers.

Row house, row house, pass through,
let the city rise up.

Twister, dust buster, hospital bed,
I'll see you, see you, see you on the highway.

Now we're told so merge ideas,
of song forms and freedom.
Miss seafood,
Miss cheesecake,
a couple of Miss donuts.
The edge of a blade pressed
to the throat of your reflected image.

Poised, yet totally screwed up.
Yes sir.
Yes sir.
Step right up.

None of us know where we're trying to get to.
What sort of live where we trying to build.
Now we're told so merge ideas,
of song forms and freedom.
Seasons out of life,
nothing is out of reach.

L.A. is more confusing now
than anywhere I've ever been to.
I'm from New York City.
Breath it out, and let it in.

Where are you now,
when your broken eyes are closed?
Head in a cloudy dream, green and sailboats.
Borrowed and never returned,
emotions,
books,
outlooks on life.

Hello, 2015!
Hello, 2015!