we be clubbin'

brenda opens a mouth

and takes a bite

your tongue lays on

the floor of your roof

the sun a small fruit

god holds in its mouth

the juice runs down

and covers the trees

brenda opens up cans

belts out the blues

in the club on the edge

of town it holds onto

the sky is made of blue

air and cloud and sky

and at night you can see

we are lost forever and

brenda burns bras back

in the seventies with

other friends with bras

who are below the sky

as the world was destroyed

we thought to ourselves

we should have seen this

coming and slept less