My name I don't remember, though I hail from Ohio. I had a wife and children, good tires on my car. What took me from my home and put me in the earth.
If the world should end in fire. The oceans boiling into flame. I will watch the last sunrise. And think of all the sunny days. . When the mystery of the skies.
If the world should end in fire. The oceans boiling into flame. I will watch the last sunrise. And think of all the sunny days. . When the mystery of the skies.
Out in the red rock desert. Sitting on the roof of my car. Drinking cans of warm beer. Watching the sky get dark. . Gail and I shot our empties. With an old rusted rifle.
From the dusty mesa. Her looming shadow grows. Hidden in the branches of the poison creosote. She twines her spines up slowly. Towards the boiling sun.
We came down a black dirt hill. Between the rows of blooming peaches. And we scattered leaping fawns. As we fell into the ditches. . Ahead of me ran Jackson.
Old Enoch, he lived to be. Three-hundred and sixty-five. When the lord came and took him. Back to heaven alive. . I saw, I saw the light come shining.
Lisa heard a whisper in her computer screen. And in the sad laser flicker of the xerox machine. Out the tinted windows, a car sped silently. And everything was quiet, everything was clean.
Late, late at night. Twenty-four hour store. Ghosts fly up the aisles, across the shining floor. Opening and closing automatic doors. . Hands waving mirrors.