Submerged

Vild

Kopilot

In a Pig's Eye

In a highlighted high-tower life
where no one traces their steps
	in or out of the neighborhood
there are days
yes, there are days
when the whole world spins to a different waltz
and a small duck-billed man 
	from many moons ago
picks up drinking straws in the park

oh yes, it was a long time ago
when drinking straws were more common
and people had a notion that littering was somehow wrong,
well, it was then that the duck-billed man began his 
	persistent habit
		persistent habit
			persistent habit
of picking them up in the park
and I began to run in circles
	less than safe

and so it was 
that we all would laugh and harroo
until the morning light
because that is what we do
	we all laugh
	and harroo
and the doors would eventually close 
at closing time
and we would walk back home 
	with a hearty guffaw
		and a laugh
			and harroo

nights were dark 
	and wisconsin nights were cold
but only in certain months
the months whose names
included the letter “r”
so it could be warm upon occasion
and we would light the fires
	the fires of popple and pine
	and old catalogs,
	doused in white gas
watch the mens' department
go up in flames
along with kitchen wares
	and childrens' intimate apparel
	(do they sell that sort of thing in catalogs?)

we walked out to the canoe rack
on a cool summer night
	and a cool summer nightmare
	(summers are like that)
and there were fireworks 
and fireworks are sometimes lethal
for you remember that man on the boat
	(we all remember that man on the boat)
for he nearly drowned
	(good swimmers always drown)
and all the people shouted
all the people shouted
all the people shouted	
	(we all shouted)
	(or we would have shouted)
	(had we known to do the right thing)

Some men had memories 
of things they shouldn't know
like aliens at roswell
or the truth about the moon landing
or who killed jfk
	(actually, I know who killed jfk)
	(and I know all about the aliens)
	(and all about the moon landing)
but the small duck-billed man
would pick up drinking straws 
wherever he found them
	on the grassy knoll
	in a crater in a desert
	or in crater on the moon
the small duck-billed man really didn't care 

there was a time when I walked along
and hummed a merry tune
(I know you did the same)
we all hummed merry tunes 
in the season of the war
	(there he goes, talking about war again)
	(at least it's not “the” war)
anyhow.
	(or was it?)
and I did not know the small, duck-billed man
and I did not know 
the truth about so many things
like we do now

there are so many things
so many things we know
in this modern age
in the modern time
in this modern life
	things the duck-billed man
	could never know 
	as he picked up straws
	and walked about


So in a highlighted high-tower life
where no one traces their steps
	in or out of the neighborhood
and no one really cares 
how many shops are set on fire 
and how many pharmacies are looted
and how many cars have windscreens smashed
and no one goes around
	picking up drinking straws
it seems that things
	have begun 
	to move faster
and it is not entirely clear 
if that is a good thing
	(as if we know good things)
	(at least when we see them)
and it is not entirely clear
if we would welcome home 
the small duck-billed man
if he were to show up 
	at our doorstep
	as we know
	he can do
for the age would be much gentler
and the age would be quite innocent
and no one would use 
	the sort of language 
	they do today
for I remember
the mechanic's shop when I was a child
and rough men banged on things
	and chewed cigars
	and bashed their knuckles
	with slipping wrench
and it was never as raw
as a street and a burning pharmacy
and the small duck-billed man 
	would be 
	lost


In A Pig's Eye

In Which This Belongs

Tarragon

The Kinoslav Studio Orchestra is an ambient project that dips into psybient and dark ambient from time to time.

Our albums, "ICON", "Kenosis", and "Fields of Hope and Grain" are available on the Silent Flow Netlabel.  