Here he is on the rock that they call Golgotha.

Furl the flag, shake the shroud, cinch the chain.

Let the great speckled bird take his heart soon enough.

But he’ll never go back again.

Why do you talk like you’ve got a mouth full of rocks,

Lying there in the dirt like a worm?

See, I’ll sit on your chest till you tell me to stop.

But he’ll never talk back again.

Is your head made of rock? Will you get out of here?

Silly boy, I can’t be your girlfriend,

Cause you’re dumb and yellow, and you act kind of queer.

But he’ll never turn back again.

He looks up at the stars in the wings of the night.

On warm rocks pebbles poke on his skin.

He waits for a good book to take him to the light,

And he’ll never come back again.