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Johnny Whitney
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At the End of the Road Theres a Sapphire Pit
At the end of the road there's a sapphire pit and if you've been good you can throw your bones in it.
there's a grandfather clock with a shotgun sawed off shouting orders to the mob, 'wait your turn now settle down.'
the sky's a skipping record and the airs filled with smoke from mountains of plastic bottles on fire by the road
and you snarl and you curse the very day you were born then a piano without a player whistles this song
She goes 'oh hold me tonight i got a knife in my throat and i'm afraid to die
oh love me tonight if just for a moment as we wait here to die. oh hold me tonight.'
at the end of the road you've been a pretty decent guy and paid your taxes went to church no piece of ass on the side
is it heaven or hell in the sapphire pit or just a pile of tv's hissing static for centuries?
then a raven splits the sky and grinds the stars to dust
your skin turns to paper and your shadow starts to rust
and you just want to cry in your empty apartment
you hear your wife's whisper mangled up in the wind
She goes 'oh hold me tonight, I've sweated through my dress and my skin's turned bone white.
Oh love me tonight lets catalogue the seconds left in our life. Oh hold me tonight… tonight… tonight'
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you turn to the man waiting in front of you, he's got a greasy black beard and a shark bite tattoo
his speech slurred and blurred he guzzles black label rum, he says 'who gives a goddam' with a prosthetic tongue
and some fucking lunatic starts screams and starts to run, they drag him by his eyelids towards the front of the line
The woman behind you hysterically recites the names of all her lovers in the dismal grey light
And goes oh hold me tonight i got a gut feeling everything's not gonna be alright
oh love me tonight if just for an hour before the midnight expires
oh hold me tonight like a dream in the distance drifting into dark light
oh love me tonight our skin knits a quilt to keep us warm through the night
and you stand at the edge of that sapphire pit and the grandfather clock sticks his gun into your guts
you peer through the crystals that line the hole's walls hear the squall of cat calls from the men who've gone before.
and you plead with the clock 'you don't understand, you'd've done the same thing you had the life that i had'
the trees are whispering the waves weep bitterly crashing away the seconds as your body falls free.
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