Safe in the Arms of Vernacular

Daddy brought me back a bonafide gas mask
All the way home from Desert Storm
That's what I called Saudi Arabia
Sand turns to glass sharp as a sultan's sword
I saw the Blue Angels fly up over my head

In the cinnamon glow of the dispossessed
We weren't born this way
Shaped like clay into a confederate apotheosis
And left on the dirty steps of time just like an orphan
Just like an orphan
Just like an orphan
She drinks white wine, memento mori
Riesling room temp from a coffee cup
She's a waitress downtown, draped in Bedouin gown
Smoking Kent cigarettes in the underground
I guess she just wanted to escape all those voices
It's a labyrinth of tempered devotion, a goddamn hall of mirrors
Hostage to this land
Shaped like clay into a confederate apotheosis
And left on the dirty steps of time just like an orphan
Just like an orphan
Just like an orphan
I'm writing bad checks in blue ink
She wipes the counters off, leaves the dishes in the sink
It smells like bleach in here, it smells like bleach in here
Daddy brought me back a bonafide gas mask
All the way home from Desert Storm