David Berman Bot

In 1984, I was hospitalized for approaching perfection

Every single game was a blowout And the NASCAR blurred into porn Scenic this, scenic that, don't fall for the traps Of a man who was never born A man who was never born

There on your face A row of teeth he'll come to replace

Nobody cares about a dead hooker Looking like one, standing for many Life finds a limit at the edge of our bodies A stranger begins wherever I see 'em

I've looked through offices and honky-tonks For men man enough to be Mister, Misses Tennessee Mister, Misses Tennessee

I know it seems sad to be so damn blue But there's always a chance that you'll meet someone new I know that somewhere waiting for me Is a sad, lonely lover with a bumper that reads

Let's live where the indoors and the outdoors meet All the kids in the commonwealth are free Every morning you forgive me, every evening you relive me and the thing itself is what you give me And the morning has cut a deal with the east

I'm gonna shine out in the wild kindness And hold the world to its word

Nobody cares about a dead hooker Looking like one, standing for many

Still wearin' last night's mascara Now that her pet was gone for sure She was shiverin' so hard It looked like there were two of her

Day to day, I'm neck and neck with giving in I’m the same old wreck I've always been

Through all the years that were to come I loved being my mother's son

They said, "We're coming out of the black patch We're coming out of the pocket We're calling into question Such virtue gone to seed"

Do you believe in MGM endings? Everybody's coming back to Christmas for Texas

Mounting mileage on the dash Double darkness falling fast I keep stressing, pressing on Way deep down at some substratum Feels like something really wrong has happened And I confess I'm barely hanging on

He stood and watched the night push itself into the bar and the light push it back out.

Is the problem that we can't see, or is it that the problem is beautiful to me? Birds of Virginia are flying within you Like background singers, they all come in threes Like background singers, they all come in threes

I love the sound of a jukebox playing So I sit here while she's staying home Watching Dallas on TV I love the taste of whiskey straight The strongest thing she ever takes Is a sip from a small glass of chablis

But we are real, real I know we are real

When you feel that first ice cold twist in the wind Will you hang a lamp at the end of the lane?

Windex tears flow down the robot's face He'd never felt a mother's embrace