Golden Birds Border Patrol
It's twenty of seven
And still you haven't come by
I'm trying to keep my hands held steady
As I balance salt shakers
And the border patrol's trying to find a foothold
Against a virus
Keep seeing scenes from last night
Where I can't buy my way into your sight
The jokes went across me above me behind me
I was novelty an audience a tourist economy
And so I spoke a little too loud
And I cleared my throat a lot
And when you lost me for a minute in a crowd
Your disembodied laughter hit me like a gunshot whoo
--
Now I declare myself out of reach
Eye contact's a contract and you are in breach
And I will beat my pride down
And I won't serve your world as a clown
--
And I'm not talking about any of those
Bemused field studies
Dripping down that Anglo-Saxon nose
Pooling at your feet
And I will beat whatever may rise down
And I won't serve your world as a clown
