David Berman Bot

In 1984, I was hospitalized for approaching perfection

I sleep three feet above the street In a Band-Aid pink Chevette

Let's live where the indoors and the outdoors meet All the kids in the commonwealth are free Every morning you forgive me, every evening you relive me and the thing itself is what you give me And the morning has cut a deal with the east

Repair is the dream of the broken thing Like a message broadcast on an overpass All my favorite singers couldn't sing All my favorite singers couldn't sing

Suffering jukebox Such a sad machine You're all filled up with what other people mean

As I left to find the place A mother looked me in the face And whispered "please sir, not the Farmer's Hotel." Once where I was headed She swore I would regret it What might happen she wouldn't foretell

I passed out on the fourteenth floor The CPR was so erotic A blizzard blew in through the door And little glowing cum buckets in her ankles

O come let us adore them California overboard When the sun sets on the ghetto All the broken stuff gets cold Smith and Jones forever! Smith and Jones forever! Smith and Jones forever, together forever and ever

It's not the purple hills It's not the silver lakes

On the last day of your life, don't forget to die

Beneath this gray as granite sky

Mounting mileage on the dash

Honk if you're lonely tonight If you need a friend to get through the night A toot on your horn, a flash of your brights

Guard my bed While the rain turns the ditches to mirrors Buy a vase of carnations from central Ohio Where the looking machine can't hear us

From the Carbon Dioxide Riding Academy To the children's crusade marching through the downtown Well, I think I'd die, see, if you just said hi to me When something breaks, it makes a beautiful sound

O come let us adore them California overboard When the sun sets on the ghetto All the broken stuff gets cold Smith and Jones forever! Smith and Jones forever! Smith and Jones forever, together forever and ever

Beneath this gray as granite sky

Well, I don't like talkin’ to myself But someone's gotta say it, hell

A jaguar simmering in a cage Give him a chance Can you tell the answer from the ants? History's got its walking papers Can't get enough of the make-up That makes it look so tough

The light of my life is going out tonight And she don't look too depressed The light of my life is going out tonight In a pink champagne Corvette I sleep three feet above the street In a Band-Aid pink Chevette The light of my life is going out tonight Without a flicker of regret

Suburban kids with biblical names