I'm listening for the nightingale
Until the morning light turns pale
All naked and frail
I'm waiting for the phallic
Spear of God
To impale
Me deep

Knee deep in stomach acid in the belly of a whale
Who sings songs to the San Gabriels
And dreams of white skinned girls in pistachio shells
What the hell
You, you're watching black and white footage
Of a nuclear bomb
The telephone rings
It's probably mom
She asks you to tea
Those loose tea leaves in the bottom of the cup
Something didn't agree
It made you throw up all your
Teleology

Knee deep in the rolling bathwater of the sea
The earth seems to choose who she chews and swallows
And if it ain't you
Then it's probably me

We stand in a row on the shore, the line is long
Where's that bird I never heard its song
The tones fell out of the pink air and landed
Neatly in the palm of your hand

Knee deep in the twilight colored mud
The black lightning trees outlined against diamond earring studs
With the rattle and hum of insect life
You feel less alone

But I'm still listening for that nightingale
While you're lost in a lagoon
I'm crazy as a loon
Inside this birdless whale