TV on 10



Take a deep breath, try to relax
Just close the shade, don’t start to panic
Hope there’s no map, in the seat back
Cause if I know, where we’re at
Right as we cross to blue from green
The fiery terror will engulf me
You hold my hand reluctantly
But you look at me like I am crazy
“Planes almost never crash,” you say
“Almost never isn’t never,” I say as I shake
And I fight back tears, my biggest fear
Something going wrong while we’re up here
Eyes closed tight until we land, I don’t care if it’s rare

It happens…
(Ten, ten, ten, ten, ten, ten, ten, ten)
It happens…

Five in a den with a TV on 10
229 meeting in a sea beyond them
Married to marathon of bad cable access
Times while the gravitron axis wind
Up, Tony had a hive for the club
Where the toes of the tigers, arrive and erupt
Run’s house flies in a ripening husk
Each unwound one too alive to instruct
On his own, yet wove are a knife in the gut
So a holed-up night was a fiber to clutch
Wednesday 9/2/98, but really
Not even a client of your time and space
Surfing a 20 inch tube
In a home-videos-over-news kinda room
But a casual flip is a light-show dice roll
Looking for a chuckle, might stumble on a cyclone
This just in: tale of a plane crash
Typical affliction to flinch at and change past
Harsh but the city piles stiffs like a haystack
Either you’re a needle or a gray mass
One channel up, wait, maybe change back
Okay, a dose of the old death toll game
Fact: MD-11 in the ocean
Close to the coast of a cold Nova Scotia
Left JFK, smelled smoke in the vulture
Found fire in the hole, never found closure
Now a quote from his homeboy Jeremy:
“My mother took a night flight out of Kennedy”
What? Yup, she was Switzerland bound
Aw, dude, she’s fine, dude, she’s fine
What you’re thinking is an impossibility of design
Turn it up a second if you need a little peace of mind
Halifax divers find no survivors
We just need the name of the city you were flying towards
It’s not like any of us knew the routing
But the given alternative isn’t one we were allowing
Here’s where the room run a fever:
Five in a den waiting on a flight number through a speaker
And I never knew a number as a cleaver
‘Till an anchorwoman utter “Swiss Air 111 to Geneva”
Holy fucking shit
What just happened? That doesn’t happen
We were just sitting here normal
Now they got a motherless child with a father and a widower to phone call
I remember that you rode your bike home
N.Y. autumn like a fright-night fight song
Four stayed up late with the lights on
Combing over every last scale on a python
You were in the hearts of the posse you were raised in
Spoke of in the same breath as powerful and brave men
Learned life had a death, live with his friends
Five in the den with the TV on 10

It happens…
(Ten, ten, ten, ten, ten, ten, ten, ten)
It happens…]

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