The Willamette River ran beneath the Ferris wheel and the midway
Swinging in the evening air are neon swords and paper lanterns
So many stories begin in the middle
And nothing goes together better than the good and the bad

Music from a darkened car pouring from a rolled-down window
Parked above the carnival in a garden filled with roses
So many colors move and lose themselves, what does it
Matter when you are young and eyes are wide

Night birds in the pines

What does it matter?
Things will come and go
What does it matter?
And leave you alone
What does it matter?
And will let you down

But nothing goes together better than the good and the bad

All along the corridor folding chairs feign opera boxes
People come before the dawn with radios and paper cups of coffee
One by one the procession moves along
Some people wait for magic while the tragic wait for something to go wrong

(Night birds in the pines)

No, nothing goes together better
Than the good and the bad
Than fiction and the facts
Than the highs and the lows
Than two night-birds, I suppose