Ave Maria

A boy on a train with a birthmark on his forehead

Listening to language tapes and all he hear is birds

Everyone laughs cause he brings his own chair to the office

Convinced that the cushions will give him steadier thoughts



The muscles of the intellectuals are atrophying

Nobody's running, nobody's hiding

They're lit by a light that isn't even the sun

Lit by a light that isn't even the moon

Ave maria,



Now how many times have i told you not to go there?

How many times have i begged you not to go?

And how many times have you snuck down to that cellar

Just to watch how the roots begin to grow straight up through our floor?