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Calliope

The cracks are crawling and I’m climbing up the walls again. We draw conclusions on the ruins of what might have been. The Condescending Guru rides a carpet to the stars, where the Zen Svengali outlaw sells salvation in a jar to the Dime Store Primadonna in her buttercup disguise and the Lunatic Delinquent laughing loopy by her side. But all the while, time drips by and counts the miles. Darkness falls on the edge of town. Cold wind calls when the crops run out everyone smiles when Calliope comes around.

The people passing play their parts behind a glass charade. The conversation turns a corner as it walks away. There’s Smokey Joe Missouri with his gambles all expired, and the Sweet Short Circuit Circus Girl she circles ‘round the fire. Where Calamity the Preacher preys on souls that can’t be saved as the Undertaker takes their hands with one foot in the grave. They fade away, swift like hours in a day. Streetwise dope going pound for pound. Chalk dust ghost gonna’ lay you down. Everyone smiles when Calliope comes around. 

In the junk cathedral morning where the poisons all come clean there’s a black hole in your pocket where your conscience used to be. All the desolation dharma bums face visions on the road. But the Discount Tramp don’t stand a chance with a short fuse torched and a long hard way to go.