once it's the new year,
it's all over
sitting in a crowded waffle house
just off the interstate.
and everyone's saying,
"hey, it's been raining all year"
as the drunk kids tumble in
and grab the last of empty seats.
and there were six scene kids
stacked in a narrow booth by the door
two of them were smashed against the window
in their tiny Beatles shirts and wornout vans.
their cheap make up (had been) ruined by the rain.
and to me, they were a small army of clowns
successfully, they always entertained
but failed to make sense to anyone
and scared hundreds of little kids to death.
and the drunk kids' piercing laughter carried on
as they swayed back and forth a few booths down
with their wet hair filled with glitter
and shiny black stilettos
their fake silk party dresses falling from their shoulders
and they were just fools, with dull, dull eyes
yeah, they were fools, with dull, dull minds.
so I guess this is where miracles began;
in an outdated diner with bright yellow walls
when a sky dark as coal means it's time to wake up
and where the drunk kids and the scene kids wait together
for the rain to stop
and what's to come next
and I haven't seen this kind of thing all year
