Grey like new day leaks through the window and some old song comes on the alarm clock radio. You walk the forty blocks to the middle of the place. We heard where everything would be and there was barracades to keep us off the street, but the crowd kept pushing forward until they swallowed the police. Yeah, they went wild.

We left before the dust had time to settle and all the broken glass swept off the avenue. On the way home I held your camera like a bible, wishing so bad that it held some kind of truth. And I stood nervous next to you in the dark room, you dropped the paper in the water and it all begins to bloom. Yeah, they go wild.

Just when I get so lonesome I can't speak, I see some flowers on a hill side, like a wall of new TVs. Yeah, they go wild.