Stuck Between Stations

There are nights when I think Sal Paradise was right.

Boys and Girls in America have such a sad time together.

Sucking off each other at the demonstrations

Making sure their makeup's straight

Crushing one another with colossal expectations.

Dependent, undisciplined, and sleeping late.



She was a really cool kisser and she wasn't all that strict of a Christian.

She was a damn good dancer but she wasn't all that great of a girlfriend.

She likes the warm feeling but she's tired of all the dehydration.

Most nights are crystal clear

But tonight it's like it's stuck between stations

On the radio.



The devil and John Berryman

Took a walk together.

They ended up on Washington

Talking to the river.

He said “I've surrounded myself with doctors

And deep thinkers.

But big heads with soft bodies

Make for lousy lovers.”

There was that night that we thought John Berryman could fly.

But he didn't

So he died.

She said “You're pretty good with words

But words won't save your life.”

And they didn't.

So he died.



He was drunk and exhausted but he was critically acclaimed and respected.

He loved the Golden Gophers but he hated all the drawn out winters.

He likes the warm feeling but he's tired of all the dehydration

Most nights were kind of fuzzy

But that last night he had total retention.



These Twin Cities kisses

Sound like clicks and hisses.

We all tumbled down and

Drowned in the Mississippi River.



We drink

We dry up

Then we crumble to dust.