I saw you in the film for just two seconds;
A documentary set in heaven
Where the hipsters roll like children,
And the writers roll like dogs
On rugs, in beds, and on stages,
And the singers hide behind the camera.
I saw you in the film where the children write on 
glass.
The sun came in like a pack of orange spaniels
Through the window, over the ledge,
Under the curtain, on their bellies; creeping and 
bending.
Balls of string, coiled like springs, hang down from 
the cymbal stands,
And in your hands, I sleep just like a drummer.
I wake up with the thunder of your type-writer every 
night.
Every day a prayer goes on its knees -
'I will quit the white, the wine, and the weed' -
Falls to its belly, and crawls towards New York.
I saw you in the film for just two seconds,
On a subway car, lifting like a question,
From Earth to the street to the bridge in the east
Where the green man wears a hat.
The sun came in like a pack of orange spaniels
Through the window, over the ledge,
Under the curtain, on their bellies; creeping and 
bending.
Balls of string, coiled like springs, hang down from 
the cymbal stands,
And in your hands, I sleep just like a drummer.
I wake up with the thunder of your type-writer every 
night.