Lost in the Flood
The ragamuffiin gunner is returnin' home like a hungry runaway
He walks through town all alone
He must be from the fort he hears the high school girls say
His countryside's burnin' with wolfman fairies dressed in drag for homicide
The hit and run, plead sanctuary, 'neath a holy stone they hide
They're breakin' beams and crosses with a spastic's reelin' perfection
nuns run bald through Vatican halls pregnant, pleadin' immaculate conception
And everybody's wrecked on Main Street from drinking unholy blood
Sticker smiles sweet as gunner breathes deep, his ankles caked in mud
And I said, "Hey, gunner man, that's quicksand, that's quicksand that ain't mud
Have you thrown your senses to the war or did you lose them in the flood ?"
That pure American brother, dull-eyed and empty-faced
races Sundays in Jersey in a Chevy stock super eight
He rides 'er low on the hip, on the side he's got Bound For Glory in red, white and blue flash paint.
wrecked
white
where
walked
vatican
unholy
thrown
those
sweet
holding
sundays
gunner
super
apostle
satin
flash
noise
first
stock
farewell
blaze
fairies
thinking
screaming
think
faced
everything
empty
racing
eight
disappears
wonder
crosses
flood
through
loaded
dressed
quick
could
hurricane
horizon
saint
hardware
messed
incarnation
right
bound
telling
avenue
ankles
round
homicide
jersey
somebody
beautiful
halls
uptown
eighth
perfection
girls
chevy
across
starts
smiles
caked
rides
alone
american
blood
corner
hears
shots
beams
drinking
stands
bitch
bronx
blown
breathing
conception
brother
breathes
storm
comes
hungry
immaculate
wolfman
stories
jimmy
senses
pregnant
maria
paint
leans
plead
spanish
point
quicksand
races
runaway
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