Grandpa Aaron prophesied 
The year the messengers would arrive
In living ships 
That burn next to the sky 
Home from school 
I’m on suspension 
For selling all my Ritalin 
Mare makes eggs
Then she gets down to business
By 3 she’s comatose
Dark den
Snowy television 
So I’m learning “Cherub Rock” 
On an ex’s electric guitar 
A flat affect
But I really care
I see some far-out shit that isn’t there
It’s in our blood
And our dust-colored hair 
Mare’s been toast since ‘84 
She lost some friends 
Then she lost some more 
She sent letters and Violent Femmes to John Hinckley
When she had me she was 39
A pickled Pearl, but I was pretty much fine
When the future’s written 
You just kinda have to resign to it 
Any day
We’ll escape from our heads
From the chain of consequences
And ascend 
Mama, I can’t  leave you here in hell
Anywhere I go I’m still myself 
I’m a tunnel caving in 
And a goddamn great American
Any Day
We’ll escape from our heads
From the chain of consequences
And recall everything forgotten

Pearl

Empty Country