Mountain Goats

you are sleeping off your demons
when I come home.
spittle bubbling on your lips,
fine white foam
I am young and I am good.
it's a hot southern california day.
if I wake you up, there will be hell to pay.
and alone in my room,
I am the last of a lost civilization.
and I vanish into the dark
and rise above my station.
rise above my station.
but I do wake you up, and when I do
you blaze down the hall and you scream.
I'm in my room with the headphones on
deep in the dream chamber.
and then I'm awake and I'm guarding my face,
hoping you don't break my stereo.
because it's the one thing that I couldn't live without
and so I think about that and then I sorta black out.
held under these smothering waves
by your strong and thick veined hand,
but one of these days I'm going to wriggle up on dry land.