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The Mountain Goats
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Original Air-Blue-Gown
Rain all burned away
The horseflies are an irridescent green
Plums boiled down to a pulp
Drying on a screen
Bright red air inside the house here
I can barely draw breath
Dark blue shapes pop behind my eyelids
I am not afraid of death
And on the television
Black and white footage of the young Cassius Clay
My god, my god, my god
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He was something
Fists flashing as he comes toward the screen
Sailing headlong into nothing
And disappearing, reappearing
Out there in the clearing
Floating down the slight breeze
That plays along the edges of the leaves
It's you, it's you
It's you
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