I thought the horizon would swallow
me whole,
Thought the wind-chill would tear off my face.
Where existence itself is defined by the cold,
You can find yourself frozen in place.
Thawed out in mud-time, my eyes on
the boats,
Fish-grease and fuel oil perfume.
Turned green on a weekend; it’s Spring’s brief revolt
When the sun steals the sky from the moon.
It’s stranger than fiction,
it’s sadder than hell;
There’s no way to judge what it’s worth.
It’s past the last highway, across the lost hills.
My God, it’s The Last Place on Earth.
It’s the Last Place on Earth
I expected to be
Believing in better or worse.
Old friends quit asking what’s becoming of me,
They wouldn’t look in The Last Place on Earth.
It’s stranger than fiction,
it’s sadder than hell,
There’s no way to judge what it’s worth.
It’s past the last highway, across the lost hills,
My God, it’s The Last Place on Earth.
It’s the home of the raven,
where daytime is dark,
Where death takes its toll on rebirth.
The mystical journey, swan flight of the heart
Flutters down in the Last Place on Earth.
It’s stranger than fiction,
it’s sadder than hell,
There’s no way to judge what it’s worth.
It’s past the last highway, across the lost hills,
My God, it’s The Last Place on Earth.
© 1996 Far Beyond Publishing