Twisted


I seen Ezekiel’s wheel
Spinnin’ ’round in the sky.
Seen the video jocks
In the sweet by and by.
And I always knew
That I was a gifted child,
‘Cause I could see the faces
In the bathroom tile.
It’s been twenty-seven years
In captivity.
Now I’m lettin’ it loose,
Like it’s intended to be.

I remember the siren,
I remember the rain.
How the hail was fallin sideways
When it battered the pane.
When I was seven years old,
I saw a twister bein’ born
And it swept me o my feet
And set me down in the corn.
It’s been a twisted,
Twisted existence,
With no cooperation
And the standard resistance.

I met a medicine man
When I was just seventeen.
He kept his peyote visions
In a washing machine.
Then he’d wring ’em out dry
And put ’em in a tea.
He’d say, “Just drink from this cup,
And you’ll be married to me.
Don’t worry about
What’s already been done.
What goes around comes around
Just like the circle of the sun.”

I hear the tornado hover
In the powerline hum,
I feel the magnetic pulse
Beat in my brain like a drum.
And isn’t it a mystery
And isn’t it a shame?
Today the couple next door,
They just burst into flames.
Some say it was the cigarette,
Some say the butane.
I say there’s some things in life
You can’t hope to explain.

And I always knew
That I was a gifted child,
‘Cause I could see the faces
In the bathroom tile.
It’s been a twisted,
Twisted existence,
With no cooperation
And the standard resistance.

 

“Twisted” appears on Ghost Stories From Lonesome County and Live at the Pres House.


© and ℗ 1994, 2001 Marques Bovre