98
It is late at night and I am at thirty thousand feet.
Time ain’t flying and neither is sleep.
Be easier to see if I’d close my eyes
But I know without looking that I’d also see lies.
I’m trying to fly away into the sky of dreams,
To the ocean on a magic potion
That drowns out everybody’s schemes.
But my past is sitting on my shoulder
And I can’t forget what it's like to hold her.
And every beach brought by every sandman
That’s ever tiptoed past a bedpan
Can’t rock-a-bye those lies to sleep
Can’t bury them out of sight for keeps.
So I count backwards from one hundred
Reaching for unconscious peace.
But no matter how hard I concentrate
To keep the numbers straight
I never get past ninety-eight,
Never get past that tight shut gate.
When my thoughts start traveling
On divided numbered highways
And love’s pain stops traffic flow
On numberless bypass byways.
Then I realize I’m thinkin’ words
Drowning out numbers which need to be heard.
So I return to one hundred with the hope
That every word I know feels the end of a rope.
But it happens again as though on cue,
As though there only were three numbers I knew.
Out of gas at sleep’s gate.
Stalled at ninety-eight.
I’m trying to fly away into the sky of dreams,
To the ocean on a magic potion
That drowns out everybody’s schemes.
But my past is sitting on my shoulder
And I can’t forget what it's like to hold her.
My thoughts are bound in ancient history
In my neighborhood filled with colored lights.
A visiting boy about the same age as me,
We all thought he was crazy,
Offered what he called, “The celestial mystery”.
Written numbers to turn away the night.
Twenty-five cents for number three.
Sold them all except for ninety-seven
Which, as it was getting late,
He offered to give away for free.
But I turned away and didn't see
That life is played consecutively.
Less you fall into the sleepless hole
Where ninety-seven ought to be.
It's years later that I finally see
True beauty comes mathematically.
Somewhere there’s got to be
Ninety-sevens stretching to infinity.
Maybe heaven is the number ninety-seven
Where you go to lose the pain of night
And stop ninety-eighting yourself
To dawn’s sacred light.
I’m trying to fly away into the sky of dreams,
To the ocean on a magic potion
That drowns out everybody’s schemes.
But my past is sitting on my shoulder
And I can’t forget what it's like to hold her.