there's dust on the floorboards and the clock on the wall is telling lies i hear breathing just behind my head some beast is looking through my eyes the people are around me they gather here when the day's work is done they're laughing and drinking and telling me their secrets one by one i'd sell them all for money or a bottle or just a summer rain to wash this clean the moon is full and the fauns are coming out to play they tell me it won't really get started until the break of day and the crapshooters crouch in the alley to huddle round their fates and the night is thick with these creatures and the calendar is missing dates i'd sell them all for money or for glory or for a nameless face to call my own i'd sell them all for a dirt road so twisted that the spiders in my mailbox see no harm there's a stranger in the mirror his gaze is warped by benzedrine and rye a jester on a searing white stage his jokes are running dry i've known this hole before this ain't my first fall there's nothing left to see down here the museums are the same from wall to wall i'd sell them all for a hatchet and a prairie and a chance to build the world that should have been i'd sell them all just to wake up unbroken and see the awful dark with trusting eyes for money or for glory for money or for glory for money or for glory for money or for glory.
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