Good Lord it's in Gorman, the wreck
Of attention span in slow spawn of red
But the angels got through before the pyramid rise
Over Soledad Canyon, the highest concentration
Of them I at least have ever seen, I would live here
If I wasn't afraid of Lizzies, roads to nowhere
As a way of life, shot through with high-tension towers
Flashing electrical teeth through Harvey's top-secret valves
As we navigate by Arco, a smiley faced Winnebago
As temporary twin, and still the crystals resonate
So ultrablue, tell us through telepathy alone
What went on here, what rolled in from underground
As if it was provisional, for the people
Here at Lamont Odett, HQ of the operations,
Under dry lenticular landscape painting, to Palmdale,
Not a destination tho R. Lee Ermey Ave beckons
And the highway sings through the tires
In the wind,
Must be Avenue M, Willow Springs, where all things bend
At the Mohave Wormhole Zone, where the Joshua Trees
Appear just in time, as it seems the Federation
Has freed us up, to see: the SS Minnow in the tumbleweed,
No thought of stopping by the roadside at the Pleasure Boutique
Fronted by mannequins with wind-blown lingerie
But we're moving the brinkley, as the porta potties rolling
Leak towels across the Cesar Chavez National Monument freeway
While our ears squeeze out another nail
In my heart
Nailed flat, more memories realized in the moments
As they pass, experienced as new soothing things
While the old ones smoulder in the clouds
Still more memory than mountain.
