Programmed Cell Death Up and down the shining aisles The all-night grocery store on Melrose Dozens of us exiles from the mother-ship The whole wide Western world is at our fingertips
The while moon hangs high above the city And while the night begins to flex its jaws We meet up like a loos-knit congregation Or like spies who need to pass on information
How much longer are we supposed to stay alive? Gathering by the Portuguese sardines in aisle five
Mounds of California avocados Like offerings to an unresponsive god I wore my suit from Hong Kong to the store tonight 'Cause it fits me just right
And suddenly the lights out in the parking lot Begin to burst like sodas under pressure One by one they throw themselves against the night sky
And almost unremarked upon the moment passes by
The one or two of us Point our fingers outside Eyes glazed, mouths wide
Listening to that still small voice within us Doesn't seem to do us any good Try to take that in stride And try to let the moment slide
And we fiddle with our cellphones Until our thumbs are sore And the music on the speakers overhead Is fainter than the voices of the dead
How much longer Are we supposed to stay alive? Gathering by the Portuguese sardines in aisle five