Ruh-roh
You see what they want you to see.
My first abandoned carnival
showed me the country beneath
your suburbia. We’ve been in this van
since the Johnson administration,
and driven through the cracks
of society to uncover mystery.
The police want you to think
a gang of plucky kids
pulled the rubber mask
off a rich industrialist. Go back
to your soap operas.
There are no ghosts.
The authorities don’t like you
looking too close and doing their job. It’s true
we talk to our dog. Jeepers!
Everyone talks to their dog.
We’re not David Berkowitz—
even if the dog speaks back.
You see what they want you to see.
My first abandoned carnival
showed me the country beneath
your suburbia. We’ve been in this van
since the Johnson administration,
and driven through the cracks
of society to uncover mystery.
The police want you to think
a gang of plucky kids
pulled the rubber mask
off a rich industrialist. Go back
to your soap operas.
There are no ghosts.
The authorities don’t like you
looking too close and doing their job. It’s true
we talk to our dog. Jeepers!
Everyone talks to their dog.
We’re not David Berkowitz—
even if the dog speaks back.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson