Cannons

In that old boxcar with the pentagram where the kids all used to hide; I left my best bracelets there for the scavengers to find. But when I come back last May, the boxcar was cut down. But the smooth scarred boy with ravaging eyes was still hanging around. And it was just as I had dreamed it when we walked along those tracks; Pulling the sparks from an orphaned rainbow that turned our eyes to black And then we said: "The people we see as skeletons, we all know by name" I'm at the top of a hill, receiving signals that go... I'm going back to that place! (And if one day you draw a microphone that makes the radio sing...) I'll paint a portal through space! (And cut the cherry cloth born from a string, I'll carry everything.) Then I'll track you through the alleys and the hours on the trampoline of time. And then I'll take: The cannons in the park and point them, straight into your heart Heart... heart... heart... heart...