A febrile shocking violent smack
And the children are hoping for a heart attack
Tonight the windows are watching
The streets all conspire
And the lamppost can't stop crying
If I could fly high above the world
Would I see a bunch of living dots spell the word stupidity?
Or would I see hungry lover homicides
Loving brother suicides
And olly olly oxenfrees
Who pickaside and hide

The world is scratching at my door
My morning paper has the scores
The human interest stories, and the obituary

Cockroach naps and rattling traps
How many devils can you fit upon a match head?
Caringosity killed the Kerouac cat
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction

In my alley around the corner
There's a wino with feathered shoulders
And a spirit giving head for crack and he'll never want it back
There's a little kid and his family eating crackers like thanksgiving
And a pack of wild desperados scornful of living

The worlds is scratching at my door
My morning paper has the scores
The human interest stories, and the obituary

Cradle for a cat, Wolfe looks back
How many angels can you fit upon a match?
I want to know why Hemingway cracked
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction

Life is the crummiest book I ever read
There isn't a hook
Just a lot of cheap shots
Pictures to shock
And characters that amateurs would never think up

Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction