I’m folding dollars my Father’s gasping in his sleep

Stars are falling on the drive, in the river, rising deep

My paper’s lit by the Cape Canaveral Moon.

Wind from the east blows rotting seaweed out

Deep green chameleons nod their heads, flap their red throats about

My paper’s lit by the Cape Canaveral Moon.

The thermostat hits 78 Sends cold air blasting on my face

Sweat beads dry without a trace

Heat lightning flashes out at sea.

Waves roll in instead of thunder

Alone in bed my feet sweep under

sheets, and brush a sandy letter in shadows here with me

My paper’s lit by the Cape Canaveral Moon.

(Break)

Closets hold Vanguards and longboards

Photos and films of friends and fretboards

Stacks of vinyl Stockhausen records

Leaning silently.

A missle tumbles through the night

Hounds bark to scare off a...rocket fight.

Windows tremble and reflect the light

Arching over the sea.

My paper’s lit by the Cape Canaveral Moon.

I can’t understand how these palms are so profane

Sounds like a million slivered icicles

Shaking off some south bound train

My paper’s lit by the Cape Canaveral Moon.

My paper’s lit by the Cape Canaveral Moon.

My paper’s lit by the Cape Canaveral Moon.