You’re on the porch amidst the pith
Of seven rotten oranges And regrets that
You unraveled after pulling them off the tree
I drove through cardiac traffic to get here, Bodies hanging out of windows, gunned the throttle
Killed the bottle, all so’s not, so’s not to see

My head was a sledgehammer
The lawns were impeccably manicured, But the council found a blade
Was out of place and that there’d be
Hell to pay, today
I’m here to exact revenge
On behalf of all the overwatered greenery

My luck, my love
Survived the blast from up above. Her hand, her touch
We’ll soon find out what’s left of us

You’d been underground for most of seven years, Since the studio wars went nuclear
They brought Mitchell from the nursing home To negotiate détente
And in the aftermath they crawled out: Game show hosts and actors
Holy ghosts and pastors
Corn fed boys in leather, and an Alcoholic aunt
Mankind, mistrust
The balance sheets had all gone bust. But my luck, my love
We’ll soon find out what’s left of us

I wanna take you to Griffith Park
I hear the radiation’s falling
We’ll put a blanket on the overlook
Watch the half-life neon crawling
Though the leaves have all turned black, I’ll put sunscreen on your back
And we’ll hike to the observatory

And when we get through with the park I’ll take you to the movies
Though they haven’t got concessions
Or a picture on the screen
And we will dance the darkened theater, And playing it from memory
We’ll run through Kiss Me, Deadly, and We’ll laugh about the ending
As we pantomime each scene