Postcards from Waterloo #65

Transitory Life

It’s a good time for bankers and winners and sailors
With their stories of jackpots and islands of pleasure
They keep their treasures locked in Iron Mountain
Locked in Iron Mountain.
They’re sailing through this transitory life.
They’re moving through this transitory life.

It takes a long time for a mouse to realize he’s in a trap
But once he does something inside him never stops trembling.

And grandma in the pancake makeup she never wore in life
Lies there in her shiny black coffin looks just like a piano.
She made herself a bed inside my ear.
She made herself a bed inside my ear.
And every night I hear
We’re sailing through this transitory life.
We’re moving through this transitory life.

When the doctor says: Congratulations, it’s a boy!
Where do all the dream baby girls, those possible pearls, go?
Lorrine and Susan with the brown eyes
And lovely Irene and difficult but beautiful Betty
And tiny tiny Juanita?
They’re sailing through this transitory life.

They’re moving through this transitory life.

Afraid to breathe, afraid to rise
We run and run in this transitory life.
Tipped off balance we fall like light
We land on water in this transitory life.
We fall like light on water and water turns to ice.
Everything keeps changing in this transitory life.

Everything keeps changing in this transitory life.
Transitory Life

 

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