From the recording Pigeon's Throat



I'm hungry for a home with sandwiches of sense
Onion patterns on the wall and a salty picket fence
Ropes and butter chain / Toast and angel soup
Tables turning back in time like a boiled ginger root

I'm talking with my spoon / Cutting with my chop
Chewing with my biting eyes / I'm a lazy lemondrop
Candy resting on the shelf / Stocked up for rainy days
Cutter goes a hunting while the serving platter waits


I'm a crumb in the rug spending time
with the shadows of your mind over matter over time

Hounds are cutting up the rug and the cats are losing weight
The fiddle saws another log while the horn of plenty waits
The baker kneads his cutting knife / He roles it like a snake
His recipe is telling him to cook it like a steak
His recipe has secrets that it keeps from baker's hands
It dishes out its knowledge regardless of demands


I wish you turn it over / I wish you better legs
I wish you better dreams and on your knees you better begs
I wish you hearty liver / I wish you stable moon
I wish your soup a better bowl that's slurped from better spoons
I wish you better could have been on sturdy maple wood
With icy water from a lake, I wish you better food