I'm listening for the nightingale Until the morning light turns pale All naked and frail I'm waiting for the phallic Spear of God To impale Me deep Knee deep in stomach acid in the belly of a whale Who sings songs to the San Gabriels And dreams of white skinned girls in pistachio shells What the hell You, you're watching black and white footage Of a nuclear bomb The telephone rings It's probably mom She asks you to tea Those loose tea leaves in the bottom of the cup Something didn't agree It made you throw up all your Teleology Knee deep in the rolling bathwater of the sea The earth seems to choose who she chews and swallows And if it ain't you Then it's probably me We stand in a row on the shore, the line is long Where's that bird I never heard its song The tones fell out of the pink air and landed Neatly in the palm of your hand Knee deep in the twilight colored mud The black lightning trees outlined against diamond earring studs With the rattle and hum of insect life You feel less alone But I'm still listening for that nightingale While you're lost in a lagoon I'm crazy as a loon Inside this birdless whale