this is the shag-time, the leading edge
of oblivion, baby, I'm
not just making this up, tomorrow
we'll all be gone, dead
as karma and electricity, dead
as Marlowe's ghost, or Marley's, can't
remember who's who anymore, so
don't freak when I call you Jennifer or
Hayley or Amber or Bambi
(yes I knew a Bambi once) just
go with the flow, move with the groove,
find your happy thoughts, whatever
it takes because it's you and me and
a sliver of sunlight threatening the sky
so I don't have much time before
I lose the animal inside
don't have much time before
the change unchanges me
don't have much time to howl
at the sundered moon, drink
of the black night, and rut
with the heat of a wolf
before the Sun explodes
and we all find out
what silver bullets feel like