Fault Line
Beneath electric wires,
Time clock prisoners
To a 40 hour chain gang
Scurry to subway stairs
And ashes of the night
Look grey as cinder
To those sifting through the slime
For bargain-basement cache
Rush hour pedestrians
And grizzled panhandlers
Straddle the invisible fault line
Between decay and the modern world
Barkers lurk outside
Of taverns and taquerias
For dancing establishments
Coating the crossroads
Of the Tenderloin
The not so soft parade
Of Jesus freaks
With their signs and bullhorns
Who try to shove their version
Of peace on Earth
Down throats of the unconverted
Never cease to disintegrate
The static of trolley wires
Crackles over the downtown hum
On the fault line
And there’s more to this town
Than bohemia and cable cars
Shangri-La
This is Shangri-la
This is where I live
Its where school girls
Moonlight as prostitutes
Near the motels
And taco trucks
On Western
Where plastic stars get blisters
From the ego stroking
And the yellow brick road
Can seem empty
Even with a feast of friends
The Laundromat air here
Doesn’t disintegrate
Until I cross
The county line
Into Thousand Oaks
Beyond the lamp’s blur,
Angels and marionettes reside
In a sun-kissed town
Where fame is the biggest whore
And it makes me wonder
If I am the only thing
That’s real here
In Shangri-la
