OPEN ENDED

No one really eats much down at O.T.B.
Though the kitchen staff don’t really seem to mind
Cigar smoke, leather faces 
Some of them in neck braces
Drink up and analyze the line
My Vodka tonic and your seven and seven
De rigueur along with 40 TV screens
We’ll play a 12 to 1 shot because the name is catchy
And wrestle with some complicated scenes

You do for me what hunger does for poetry
This ride is open ended

We’ll talk about your mother’s comatose condition
And the power of attorney and the bills
And how the power of prayer is vastly underrated 
How some mountains now are 
Manageable hills

You do for me what hunger does for poetry
This ride is open ended

Your brother Raymond and his gambling problem
Are 30 feet away at window 9
Maybe if we sit a little lower for a minute
We can preserve his quiet time

A thousand miles above an astronaut is dreaming
About the day he doesn’t have to eat freeze dried 
Little things are subtle ties to destinations
How big or small is oceans wide

You do for me what hunger does for poetry
This ride is open ended