Battered Angels

Appears on...

So Now!
Coming Out Of The Languid Water
Shimmering From Brightness Of
The American Night

There, Over There!

Alive The City
But Wait It’s Far Away...

Walking Distant Days,
Driving Distant Hours

It Is Alive Though
It’s Said To Be So

Alive In The Mute Aliveness Of Being Alive
Like A Good Muffled Kick Drum... Ah! Music

That’s One Of The Reason Why
Why The City Alive Does There Lie In Lye

”Don’t Lie To Me.”
Say’s The Dirty Scoundrel Who Aches All Day
Taking Away My Thoughts To Be Placed In Abstract Morality Based,
Dry With Clink Stains,
Dry As A Bone / How Mutely Solemn It Is To Grow Up There

The Only Thing Bringing Water
Being Your Flaming Tongue, With Words Of Existentialism

”Here Try This...”
”What Is It, Peyote?”
”It Is Indeed,” Says The Coyote”

”Ah! Everything Now Much, Much More Dryer”
Oh No That Won’t Do,
And Away I Walk
Like A Battered Angel (Aren’t We All)
Escaping From The War

Now I’m Out Alone In The Moonlit Night
After Seeing The City...
Alive I Tell Ya!
It Ain’t So Groovy Though, When You’re In It
Drowning In The Selfish Day
Ah Again! Away!
Eagle Bearing Sorrows But I Think
”So! It’s A Beautiful Bird. Take Me Away Oh Fare Hawk.”

Now Lying In A Gutter Beside An Outskirt Road
High Stalks Of Weed’s All Around
To My Left Out Of The Gutter,
High Straws And Above A Starless Night...
Why? Because To My Right Across The Highway
Across More Weeds And Stalks Of Brown Floral,
A... A...
An Airport In Its Selfless Mutiny

Bright Lights Lighting Up, Oh I’d Say At About...
200 Yards Away The Whole Of It Infamously Stands

Rather Than Wonder Who I Am Or Where I Am
-Like All Occurrences During Night And Day
I Travel On Foot, Leave My Car Parked Behind Me
Seems As I’d Taken A Nap,
Although You Can’t Really Be Sure In A Place Like This
”Where Am I”? I Say
Then, Looking At My Shoes, Say “Just Kidding”, And Walk On
Crossing The Highway
For Now Completely Absorbed In The Moment

It Seems Like I’ve Had This Dream Before
But Don’t It Always

Walking Now Through Lugubrious Fields Of Brown Tall Grass
And Gravel,
I Come To The Concrete Runway
Clouds, Many Clouds, Must Be The Reason For No Stars... I Think.

So I Get Back To My Car In What Seemed Like A Shudder Of A Millionth,
Billionth Of A Second
Tick-Clocking, Tick-Tocking It’s Way Closer To A Second

And What It Calls An Infinity
Really Being Less Than A Minute...
Much Like Us Waiting For Death
”Death In Time My Son”
The Grandfather Clock Graons
Ah! Draw The Curtain! I’m Getting Out,
Look Outside...
It’s The American Night
Maestro! Some Jazz...
— "Battered Angels" ©1998 Words and Music by Nathaniel Street-West