Echoes of the Broadway Everglades,
With her mythical madonnas still walking in their shades:
Lenny Bruce, declares a truce and plays his other hand.
Marshall Mcluhan, casual viewin', head buried in the sand.
Sirens on the
rooftops wailing, but there's no ship sailing.
Groucho, with his movies trailing, stands alone with his punchline
failing.
Klu Klux Klan serve hot soul food and the band plays 'In the
Mood'
The cheerleader waves her cyanide wand,
there's a smell of peach blossom and bitter almonde.
Caryl Chessman sniffs the air and leads the parade,
he knows in a scent, you can bottle all you made.
There's Howard Hughes in blue suede shoes,
smiling at the majorettes smoking Winston Cigarettes.
And as the song and dance begins, the children play at home
with needles; needles and pins.
The moment of impact bursts through
the silence and in a roar of sound, the final second is prolonged
in a world of echoes as if the concrete and clay of Broadway
itself was reliving its memories. The last great march past.
Newsman stands limp as a whimper as audience and event are locked
as one. Bing Crosby coos "You don't have to feel pain to sing
the blues, you don't have to holla - you don't feel a thing
in your dollar collar." Martin Luther King cries "Everybody
Sing!" and rings the grand old liberty bell. Leary, weary of
his prison cell, walks on heaven, talks on hell. J.F.K. gives
the O.K. to shoot us, sipping Orange Julius and Lemon Brutus.
Bare breasted cowboy double decks the triple champion. Who needs
Medicare and the 35c flat rate fare, when Fred Astaire and Ginger
Rogers are dancing through the air? From Broadway Melody stereotypes
the band returns to 'Stars and Stripes' bringing a tear to the
moonshiner, who's been pouring out his spirit from the illegal
still. The pawn broker clears the noisy till and clutches his
lucky dollar bill.
Then the blackout.