You were in a shouting match with god on the fire escape of the sound gallery and I thought: What a waste, What a waste, Of perfectly good cocaine Small change got rained on with his own .38 And he couldn't find a saint to blame. What to say? Emptied every cupboard, covered every cave, undid every buckle. Nothing but the plate gave. Nothing was the same. What to say? A boy on a plane broke through the clouds for the first time And I didn't see a single solitary grandparent or a, Or a dead dog And my head cocked staring through the plexiglas. Can you picture that? Was the picture looking back? And several curtains close and lift And I sat stiff, supposing it was it, That moment was a monument. Did not intend to get so morbid But I never felt more Out here in orbit. Are you out here spinning too? Are you out here spinning too? Space bending around me, Pounding the boundary Found me echolocating, Everything sounding, Everything in it. Are you spinning? Are you here? Everything in it, everything spinning Are you here? Are you spinning? Are you here spinning too?