frontier ruckus - pontiac, the nightbrink كلمات الأغنية

the nightfall’s like a house of mirrors
the shuttered deadmall and the sears
where my mother worked for years
in the nineties

the drugstore dried out parking lots
a fluorescent crest of snow still rots
piling in the handicap spot’s
blind-freeze there

the touching-towns have special wants
m-59 and the salad-bar-restaurants
something in it always taunts my
nostrils

when i’m smoking godd-mn pontiac
and the hidden end of the amtrak
woodward and the good word crack and the
exhaust fills the air

where
a cul-de-sac
has sweetly softened
the coughing memory
dulled and black
far too often
black ice on the greenery

and all the women
sap me with their sadness
and now i’m sad too

but pontiac’s not
the heart of darkness
but freezing on the brink
where i am at
some fading starkness
where the brains of darkness think

the firmly-fixtured-fast-food-beacons
do not dangle, do not weaken
neither does the heart i’m seekin’
in you

mary-lynn you wouldn’t know
but you do too have holy glow
but how am i supposed to show
you you?

‘cause your voice through those holy nodes
marked me like the salted roads
chalky white, the night forebodes
the coming

‘cause your throat throttled northtown boys
from the rochesters and troys
they will also hear your noise
drumming low

the wilderness of floating text
the endless half-conscious of present tense winter s-x
do you see how it connects
in me?

because they touch in such awful blurs
their cough is full with all it remembers
draining the stripmall containers
to find me there

where
the silverdome, the palace
the silt-slush road and all its malice
sweethearted and waiting for me

your face flushed like a toilet
where i could only soil it
to unearth all my worth so futilely

st. joseph is black-ice-gripped
and all the mailboxes are very tightlipped
with the way they know my name

and all the black ice ever gives
twenty swerving adjectives
repeating and cheating in our game

in pontiac the night falls like a whim
looking back, the night just seemed to brim
down the track, dangerous and grim
in the black we all look so dim

and the night has a yellow-gray-glow
it’s as though
the whole world’s my halo

the grocery story bright light
aisles of the night
piling the blackwhite

the whole strip-mall plaza
wheezing with asthma
on your miasma

the night has a yellow-gray glow
it’s as though
the whole world’s my halo

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