Dead Dog

The dead dog, on the shoulder of 71
Here's where the flies come in
This is where the flies come in
The dead dog, on the shoulder of 71
Here's where the flies come in
This is where the flies come in

The fat man's drenched hat crumpled in a shivering fist
He's lost the whole house from around him
Every single shingle shattered into atoms
Only he remains, standing circumcised on torn earth
Where his living room once was stripped to his skin
With a wet hate in his right hand

Umbrella inverted and undressed
Stuffed in the top of a trash can
"Right as rain" spokes reach
Grabbing coats and poking pocket books
It's dress is torn to one last spoke
It pours a sliding sheet of rain over the side, what?
Over the side!

The cracked earth cow-skull dirt in a no-cloud blue sky capsule
Leaks out the ozone's bald spot along with your brand new closed curtains
A dozen frozen roses and Cozmo, the thumbed cat

Two women walk up to a penny
One says, "oh look a penny."
Then the other, "oh, it's a lucky one."
Then the one goes, "no it isn't."
And they both walk off

The dead dog, on the shoulder of 71
Here's where the flies come in
This is where the flies come in
The dead dog, on the shoulder of 71
Here's where the flies come in
This is where the flies come in
The dead dog, on the shoulder of 71
Here's where the flies come in
This is where the flies come in
The dead dog, on the shoulder of 71
Here's where the flies come in
This is where the flies come in
The dead dog
This is where the flies come in
It's not pixelated, it's not pixelated
It's dead, it's dead