Fly On A Windshield

Theres something solid forming in the air,
The wall of death is lowered in Times Square.
No one seems to care,
They carry on as if nothing was there.

The wind is blowing harder now,
Blowing dust into my eyes.

The dust settles on my skin,
Making a crust I cannot move in
And Im hovering like a fly,
Waiting for the windshield on the freeway...

Echoes of The Broadway Everglades
With their mythical madonnas still walking in their shades:
Lenny Bruce declares a truce and plays his other hand
Marshall McLuhan, casual viewin', head buried in the sand.
Sirens on the rooftops wailing, but there's no ships sailing.
Groucho, with his movies trailing,
stands alone with his punchline failing.

Ku Klux Klan serve hot soul food and the band plays
"In The Mood"
The cheerleader waves her cyanide wand,
There's a smell of peach blossom and bitter almond.
Caryl Chessman sniff the air, and leads the parade.
He knows, in a scent, you can bottle what you made!

There's Howard Hughes in blue suede shoes
Smiling at the Majorette, smoking Winston cigarettes.
And as the song and dance begins,
the children play at home
with needles...
Needles and pins