grace cathedral hill

grace cathedral hill,
all wrapped in bones of a setting sun,
all dust and stone and moribund.
i paid twenty-five cents to light a little white candle.
for a new year's day,
i sat and watched it burn away,
then turned and weaved through slow decay.
we were both a little hungry,
so we went to get a hotdog.
down the hyde st. pier.
the light was slight and dissapeared.
the air, it stunk of fish and beer.
we heard a superman trumpet play the national anthem.

and the world may be long for you,
but he'll never belong to you.
but on a motorbike,
when all the city lights blind your eyes tonight.
are you feeling better now?
>decemberists