The windows are closing
The dew smells the trap
The traffic is heavy
Out running the rat
The bodies are buried
In freeways and wells
Boneyards with blisters
And gateways to hell
When it's all over
Your brown bread
Way down the line
Where no angels tread
The soldiers are gathering
Not missing a beat
A poetry reading
While reaping the wheat
Out looking for Venus
She's black marble on ice
Cut to precision
And weighted like dice
When it's all over
Your brown bread
Way down the line
Where no angels tread
Maybe you'll make it
Maybe you won't
The world and his dog
Won't care if you don't
When it's all over
Your brown bread
Way down the line
Where no angels tread
Maybe you'll make it
Maybe you won't
The world and his dog
Won't care if you don't
When it's all over
Your brown bread
Way down the line
Where no angels tread
