The Garbagemen

The light is red, the rain is soft
The pavement shines above the tram
Neon lights flicker out
The garbagemen pick up their cans
And trust their worried whispers to the wind
She picks them up with gentle hands
And sets them free

I'd long to follow suit
Over the grey slate roofs
Up through the darkening clouds
Right out of this town
And come down real slow
At the bend of the river
Where the cottonwoods grow

The light turns green
The cars pull up
A baby cries up in the trees
The parakeets screech loud and bright
The garbagemen jump on again
And ride the truck like it's an ocean wave
Of endless blue
A stretched out hand To ease the way

I'd long to follow suit
Over the grey slate roofs
Up through the darkening clouds
Right out of this town
And come down real slow
At the bend of the river
Where the cottonwoods grow