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Acte III. Radio collection

de Ben Caplan

Just like an elephant memory, he comes and never fades
She turned his stomach upside down as she played the queen of spades
They pistol-whipped an outcome, tossed a coin and called a draw
Threw a blanket on a flight of stairs and fasted up his jaw

We bang to break the drum
We rub the shine, we shine the light
We light the fuse, the fuse the powder
Cause the powder makes it right
We bang to break the shed
We shed the skin, we skin the bear
We bear the fall, we fall the towers
Cause the towers brings me there

The pedals fall forever on Picadilly Lane
And the children take their medicine as they stand to watch the rain
The wagon wheels are made from cheese, the moon is made from grass
And the Wicca drinks the water where the preacher screams for mass

We bang to break the drum
We rub the shine, we shine the light
We light the fuse, we the fuse the powder
Cause the powder makes it right
We bang to break the shed
We shed the skin, we skin the bear
We bear the fall, we fall the towers
Cause the towers brings me there

Nothing felt as flawless as the sirens in her mind
He broke apart her diary to doctor all he'd find
The carnival was sleeping when the doves had gotten free
The treasure of the secret love is swallowing the key

We bang to break the drum
We rub the shine, we shine the light
We light the fuse, the fuse the powder
Cause the powder makes it right
We bang to break the shed
We shed the skin, we skin the bear
We bear the fall, we fall the towers
Cause the towers brings me there

The dead are all we have to set the worthiness of life
The angel-smoke about the bridge is sharpening the knife
The ceiling was the sucker-punch from Michael to the Pope
The anti-mute wear muzzles and a necklace cut from rope

We bang to break the drum
We rub the shine, we shine the light
We light the fuse, the fuse the powder
Cause the powder makes it right
We bang to break the shed
We shed the skin, we skin the bear
We bear the fall, we fall the towers
Cause the towers brings me there

The army trucks patrolling all but under angry stars
Say the pilgrimage is all beset by men who stroke guitars
The moon upon her caravan is driving thunderheads
While the painter sings about his blues and chokes upon his red

We bang to break the drum
We rub the shine, we shine the light
We light the fuse, the fuse the powder
Cause the powder makes it right
We bang to break the shed
We shed the skin, we skin the bear
We bear the fall, we fall the towers
Cause the towers brings me there

We bang to break the drum
We rub the shine, we shine the light
We light the fuse, the fuse the powder
Cause the powder makes it right
We bang to break the shed
We shed the skin, we skin the bear
We bear the fall, we fall the towers
Cause the towers brings me there

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