Black Lamb
If this age is going to change me then let it change me by degree.
If I become something disgusting I'll just retrace my steps and leave.
But what a cowardly thing: to know the notes but not sing.
So let the tall grass creep up into my wheel-wells.
And let the grey paint-speckled husk betray the way I lived while
I was being born in travel. Every breath was summer air.
Not a black lamb reading Vanity Fair.
And when you look into the mirror and see a shivering actress.
And you half forget the difference between the blond girl and the black dress.
Well don't dwell too much on that. You know the steps so just dance.
And let the tall grass creep up into my wheel-wells
And let the grey paint-speckled husk betray the way I lived while
I was being born in travel. Every breath was summer air.
Not a black lamb reading Vanity Fair.
Not the town drunk screaming that my shot wasn't fair.
Not a dry eye blinking and trying hard not to stare.
Not a black lamb reading Vanity Fair.