I’ve got all the answers to the questions that they ask on seventies talk shows
Give me ten minutes and an armchair next to Dick Cavett—I could be a primetime philosopher
Discuss the way the world is turning, what it is that turns me on, crack a joke or two
Talk freely as if sitting in the back seat of a car
With a patient taxi driver who just asked you how you are? Are you going very far?

Follow me the sky is green on the other side of the silver lining
There’s not a fence that I can see, our garden grows into the sea,
Sometimes the tide waters the plants
And it’s nothing to do with the moon or the stars,
No answers like dial tones or question marks
It’s the uncertainty of endings, the necessity of starts
Or else a bus shelter in a surprise storm from which to curse the passing traffic
Some people lead such driven lives

Meanwhile the advertisements roll, the rain sounds like applause

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