The porch light's off or maybe it's burnt out. I found a cigarette butt on the ground. Practicing breathing out in the backyard, I don't make a single sound.
I'm cutting my hair by the flickering light of the TV that I left on all night, and it's showing a stage, a podium, and a man; and he's saying the last days are in sight.
And the ticking clock in my head tells me he's right.
And I think these stars are really headlights on spaceships, and I think this house is an exit sign, and I think something big is gonna fall right down on me, and it's gonna be mine - ALL MINE!
And the yellow teeth in my head are starting to grind. And the widening eyes above them are turning and watching for a flashing sign, a better life on down the line, very far away...
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