Choir of Cicadas

It's the season of dust trailing old pick up trucks

Seashells washed ashore down by the docks

So baby, pull on your blue jeans, turn the radio loud

Don't wait for the hour to give birth to doubt

In the peak harvest of snakebites and wasted hindsight

When trivial truths sit next to the taillights

When fenders of chrome they rattle and hum

All carved in the shape of freedom

Those flea market stalls in the bone dry noon

Despite pretty signs, looked cursed and marooned

And trumpet notes wailin' from the candy store

Like  a work of art of uneasy rapport

The wreckage, the blunder, the tarot read

In the heat blurry air, we're down in the field

Where to the choir of cicadas jubilee

Among the clouds, we once fell asleep

The sirens of the shipyard by those derelict whales

Old mothers singin' rusty old tales

Like revvin' engines, keenin' sky high

Yet theirs is never a war cry

So I'll be your lover now, brazen and bright

Like the flare of a match you struck in the night

Though what does a stray know bout holy and true?

But I'll always come to your rescue

Oh Lord, won't you hear your children cry?

Singing their praise and their hallelujahs

I have no more words to describe

An empty sky of hollow blue, yeah

So where is my lover, my firelight?

The line on the edge of truth and rumor

We took our vows in the heart of the night

We were brazen and bright

When we were brazen and bright