(alexander)



Luther's windows are littered with nothing

A crystal, a picture, a dead potted sage

A dusty white curtain, the nose prints of a dog

A shot glass collection from his truck driving days



Luther's bedroom is as hot as an oven

With air that's as stale as old forgotten bread

In a cage on the dresser there's a parrot that talks

But her name over and over is all that it says



Turn your back to the sun

You see only shadows

Look beneath the stars

You see only night

Like a homesick sailor

Luther's standing in the window

Watching the world floating by him tonight



Luther's hands once held a chain

With keys to a home and a blue chevrolet

Now he lives with his mother, steals all her liquor

And chain smokes and stares at the ceiling for days



Turn your back to the sun

You see only shadows

Look beneath the stars

You see only night

Like a homesick sailor

Luther's standing in the window

Watching the world floating by him tonight



Luther's sitting by himself on the sofa

With his head bowed down but his eyes are open wide

Having a one man revival with an electronic bible

Listening to the parade going by

And the bass drum is pounding, the trumpets are bleating

And he's reading a verse from st. john

A trickle of light seeps through the blind

Luther pulls down the shade until he makes up his mind



Well, turn your back to the sun

You see only shadows

Look beneath the stars

You see only night

Like a homesick sailor

Luther's standing in the window

Watching the world floating by him tonight

It's floating by him tonight




more