Port Of Morrow

Through the rain
and all the clatter
under the Freemont bridge
I saw a pigeon fly
fly in fear
from a raptor
come to take its life.

And as it closed
In for the capture
Funnelled the fear through my ancient eyes
Se in flight what I know are the bitter mechanics of life.

Under my hat
it reads
the lines are all imagined
A fact of life
I know
to hide from my little girls
I know my place amongst
the bugs and all the animals
And it's from these ordinary people
you were longing to be free.

In my hotel
and on the TV
a preacher on the stage
like a buzzard cries
out a warning
Of phony sorrow
He's trying to get a rise.

Cyanide, from an almond
Let him look at your hands
get the angles right
Ace of spades
Port of Morrow
life is death
is life.

I saw a photograph
of Cologne in '27
and then a postcard after the bombs in '45
Must have been a world of evil clowns
that let it happen
But now I recognize
dear listeners
that you were there
and so was I.

Under my hat, I know
the lines are all imagined
A fact of life I must impress on my little girls
I know my place amongst
the creatures
in the pageant
And there are flowers
in the garbage
and a skull
under your curls.