Drive round the steeples of the world
Wonder which reasonable explanation
Has bound the peoples of the world from showing
Wonder if they went up or went home
—If I’m still here, it’s foretold I will be—
Ponder what it means to be tethered to the ground
And leave them behind
Or pass beyond them in the beer aisle
Give my money
—There’ll still be money, right?—
To some lonely mother defiling the Sabbath
Ask her if she misses them
Listen as she says misses who
Tell her I’m going home over yonder
A place all are invited who can love enough
Go there, leave my door open to the least of lovers
—And if they come by—
Scan the sky for soles and the paper for coupons
Check the tube and ask Brian Williams
Listen as he says he saw nothing
Laugh at the stupidity of it all
Cry at the stupidity of it all
Go on with my day
And hope this is the end of the end of the world