What the Thunder Said Lyrics

When I leave the theater
(I can only hope soon),
the day has blazed
away, yielding to an
eerily deadened night.
There are no
cars around the suburbs,
and the streetlights blink
a single, fuzzy color.
At that hour, it's often
very cold. Too cold to
smoke one more cigarette
after work, by the dumpster.

What insignificance!
When the stars are out,
they follow me to the car—
The entire galaxy is behind me...
How could I justify my clawing,
in the midst of the grand, flickering
ancients— And my unheard squeaking!

Still, the night is newly born
(if I ignore the straining of
my sleepy, blushing eyes).
And indeed, there is time
then, to interrupt your typing,
with wild schemes,
or smoky, cold-footed evenings
on my porch. I will recite my stories—
And you have heard them all, Dear.

You will still laugh, and you will
tease me, in a language I do not know.
Your words will be like an aria,
a Devi's song— so sweet to me, so
smooth in her tones and music—
But of course, I still do not
comprehend their meaning...
Sing me Habenera,
in your devil speak tonight!

A year of dark affairs. My insignificance...
I watched you sprout, from
the empty soil of my grim garden,
counted the hours at your side, beneath
heavy winter precipitation.
How? I can not fathom this fate—
Your quiet arrival to my
home last winter, like a cat entering
a cracked doorway.

How could you ever know,
what lies beneath my hypnotized gaze—
what frantic, grateful fervor,
for I am not alone!
I know you from the ages!
Ursa Minor, I suppose, still
wanders the heart of paradise—
its deepest forests, where life is rich.

I have heard, the cosmic thunder speaking, From the acidic fringes of the dusk,
When psychedelic highs are peaking Over half-full cans and pizza crusts—
But let us go now, it's time.
The theater's closed, let us go now, Dear...
through uncertain, half-deserted streets.

Shantih. Shantih. Shantih.