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Luke Temple
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Saturday People
Moving in units and dying alone
Building a glass and glue gelatin throne
Stuck in familiar; in milk and in bone
And in warning
We'll hit the sidewalk and turn on the heat
Live for a moment and die so discreet
Just like the clown who wore black to the beach
Selling blood
People, looking glass people,
Saturday people
Will live one final time
-To reach,(holy calabaroo!)
-Shaking the whitened hand,(holy calabaroo!)
Much more than we can love
Halos for maniacs bent out of shape
Still they will circle the crystalline gates
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Along with the pirates who sailed there too late
On a log
I'll be here waiting, -for what? I don't know
With hands like a fly trap and hair that won't grow
A mescaline freak out in an off-Broadway show
In the morning
People, looking glass people,
Saturday people
Will live one final time
-To reach,(holy calabaroo!)
-Shaking the whitened hand,(holy calabaroo!)
Much more than we can love (holy calabaroo!)
Inches towards the beast,(holy calabaroo!)
This is
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