Half Harvest - Michael Penn

I don’t care that you won’t quit this notion

of burying the carnival

but what the hell is in your potion

that’s made you so dull?

So I cannot make a blind from sawdust

much less a cool millennium, but I’d

much rather feel the heat of August

than be sheltered and numb

So move out of your bed of roses, now

I’m putting in a bed of nails,

'cause missiles, guns and rubber hoses

will land me in jail

This paradise is slowly crumbling

from here to Wilshire Boulevard

but the rubble over which you are stumbling

just isn’t that hard

What did you do with all that grace, now?

what did you do with all my wine?

what makes you think that just 'cause you dress bright

it means that you shine?

So move out of your bed of roses now

I’m putting in a bed of nails

'cause when this whole production closes

this innocence fails

(and weren’t we supposed to)

SHINE… like half harvest never shone

SHINE… like half harvest never known.