Interior of the Fourth Dimension----Max Weber

Fuck it.
I'm tired.
And if you put the light
over the picture just so
the street lamps look real.

Jack it back, baby.
Fly me.
I'm a hood ornament
on a '63 Caddy.
Fly me.

Stretched out
between the Red Rock Inn
and some dive on Sixty-Second Street,
that's where I'll find reality.
Sharp edges and dull blades
and eyes that bleed false sincerity
and heaven waits in the alley
around the corner.
It sleeps behind the dumpster
spread thin over broken bottles
and empty cans

Jack it back, baby,
and hit it hard.
I'm tired.
Fuck it.

Fly me away to heaven
in a silver spoon
while I sing sweet lullabyes
and burn bridges
in dead rose gardens,
and then we'll dance beneath the moon
and throw broken bricks
through the windows
of tomorrow.

Jack it back, baby,
and hit it
hard.

phantom...(c) WLA 10-15-2000