two shiny girls in my backseat and now i know the chorus to every fifty cent song on the radio. that booms enormous when you realize the scope of the fm radio dial with its quick rotation. single file. with. wild crazy dj _____ quite like a think tank full of apes and so the music escapes my ninety-two ford escort from its cracked windows. and the front left wheel squeels as the engine reels. over rotate over rotation.
the shoutouts and radio calls a simple recitation. im mumbling words and i hear the praise of pop songs like the car was gods house. and the tamborines and the gospel couldnt stop resounding about. the law rests on reasonable doubt. but in god we trust shoots like swag on our green pocket flags. and suddenly the bass rips a steple in my roof. and theres the plain and honest truth. its jesus mary and who-ever-else-s profile blown into the body of this church by the radio dial.