Birth of Serpents

Let the camera pull back
'Till the fullness of the frame is clear and plain
Peer into the screen until you see it all
Like a vision in a crystal ball

Let it all fill with smoke
Is this somebody's idea of a joke?
Let the fixer work until the silver's washed away and take a picture from the tray
Look hard at what you see and then remember you and me

And let the truth spring free
Like a jack-in-the-box, like a hundred thousand cuckoo clocks
From the Oregon corners to the Iowa corn
To the rooms with the heat lamps where the snakes get born

Crawl through the tunnel and follow, follow the light northwest
See that young man who dwells inside his body like an uninvited guest
See the tunnel twist, clutch your birthright in your fist
Let the camera do its dirty work down there in the dark

Sink low, rise high, bring back some blurry pictures to remember all your darker moments by
Permanent bruises on our knees never forget what it felt like to live in rooms like these
From the California coastline to the Iowa corn
To the rooms with the heat lamps where the snakes get born