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David Marcouillier

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We are transient, like some ambient road trip sidebar,
We utilize haphazard methods to keep things interesting.
We deflect attention by dressing like the locals when we go to town.
And all the while we’re living underground…

Down here, in the abandoned missile silo,
It’s recycled air and it’s malaise and it’s despair and we’re all waiting.
We don’t know what for but we’ll surely recognize it when it comes.
We’ll all keep waiting underground…

Phone calls from hitherto and presently unknown parties.
They were informing us that elemental particles are out exchanging electrons.
This, of course, leads to the synthesis of undocumented molecules
They want to store them underground…

I am in the back seat translating for your mother
But she isn’t listening to a goddamn word that I’m saying
An elaborate juxtaposition, baroque in its construction, makes itself
Clear against a backdrop of nothing…

Keep driving…
Keep driving…
Don’t stop…
Keep driving…

© 2008 David Marcouillier

Guest said

Yeah, love this! Great melody and arrangement - just class song-writing topped off with a voice like brown sugar.

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