OJR's Dream

Do you remember when the door slid open, and the sunlight poured in?

And there was time yet to cover your skin?

Before this lazy race toward greater self-destruction

Proxy-funeral pyres for all the fallen scooters, piled nineteen miles high

Pedal taverns in the sky! Drunken sirens' swan song

Holding court with golden hoses pumping fireball indulgences

The God of Gore in all his glory tried to slow it down

Rode his lion into town, till the Hartford circus folded

And the acoustic zoo was closed, so Mercer's hill was shown

To be built atop the bones of electric ponies made of plastic

And a thing known in Richmond as Poor Man's Petroleum

Your mood organ in the corner hums, just buzzing and patrolling them