I want to explain something to you. On the day when the last of the undead cyborgs lies in the wet red clay of the camouflaged pit that trapped him, and the smoke rising from his circuits indicates in vanishing Morse code that he truly was the last hominid to walk the surface of this late planet, that will technically be a lie, because there will still be three hominids left, and they’ll be called the Mountain Goats, and they will still be touring. On that day, may the fates delay its coming, we will announce a tour of the network of bio-pods underneath the ruins of the former cities, and it will cost you a quart of whole blood to get in. In the present day, let’s enjoy it while it lasts, what we’re going to do is tour down south, because the American South in January is evidence that the universe loves us deeply and holds an abiding concern for our pleasure and well-being.
This is the song about how when time gets a little rough, you can always fall back on round-the-clock boning. You can just, if things get hard in your relationship, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Man! Maybe you got nothing to say. Just have sex until it gets better. Write me if it doesn’t work after five or six years.
Matthew 11:14-19
“He who casts the stone can’t ever do so on his own
It takes a crowd to drown a witch”
So he said to us when he wriggled free
And got the gun from me
Standing before us
His crackling voice rising in pitch
