My soul wants to move south

Up to the boulevard to reclaim some pride

I live in a condo

An air conditioned dream palace in which I can hide

Until the landlord comes by

with unwanted intrusions upon my time


My room is big with walls like tissue

Overhanging the living room

And when I play my organ I'm much too loud

But at night when the room is black

In adventure and air-conditioned coolness

In sheets cleaner than a hospital's I pursue my incest


In the morning I'm going south

South to the boulevard to work in the theater

And I'm already there and I'm working in the basement

When a man comes rushing in who knows me

And is screaming with violence and hysteria in his voice

Blissful thoughts of condo heaven fade

and I am slapped awake

As he screams about blueprints in his hand

Apparently I drew them and there's a problem

(go away I want to sleep)

Apparently I'm an architect and there's a big problem

(am I in trouble?)


The whole place is coming down

And as this guy goes to grab my throat the wall rumbles

It's going to come down

Blue paint and plaster and mortar crumbles

I'm up like a shot and running like hell


The angry man and disaster are chasing me

I'm running from both and I must escape

The theater crumbles and dies below me

Up stairs ramps and ladders to the roof I escape

And I'm almost to the top and I'll make it there soon


And when I get there I'll look down

At the street I love, at the prestigious boulevard

So full of life and decay and magic

And for a moment I'll be on top of the world

And with sadness and joy and abandon

I will move south.


G.S., 12/15/86


GS: 12-string electric guitar, guitar, vocals



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