When the ringmaster calls our names, we’ll be the first ones to go to sleep. Stealing all our dreams. Dreams for sale. They sell ’em back to you. On with the Comics, start the parade!

The sun is up and there’s no one about, I get the paper and the Comics are out…I keep wondering, “Where did you get that blank (blank) expression on your face?”

I stock the shelves, I work the rows; the product’s all light up. If I could flip the switch, Sunday Comics, I could move us to the top. The numbers roll, it’s time to go, but never fast enough.

I saw my therapist; she thinks you are my magic sin. Oh, maybe she’s right! Well I’ll just read the Sunday Comics and purify again…Ooh, angels are fun, they’re so fun!

And I remember everything: Comics on a blue horizon; Sundays, your hand in mine. I remember the things you said…Said, “I’ll be a lady, wait through it all, be there to catch you, after the fall.”

On my dying day I read the Comics Sunday, I might be able to say: “You know I finally see things all your way.”

We. so tired of all the darkness in our lives. With no more angry words to say can come alive. Read the Sunday Comics and drive to the other side. You, babe, stepping out into the night.