(Or, From Pitcher’s Hand to Catcher’s Glove)
by Todd Herges
With apologies and thanks to Bruce Springsteen and Mark Knopfler
In a screaming ring of faces
The fat man sits on a little stool
As my eyes take a walk all over you,
As his fingers take a walk in front of the cup.
Then the lights go out and it’s just the three of us:
Pitcher, catcher, batter.
Let it rock and let it roll
Down in through this tunnel of love.
Hey mister blue give me oh-two, give me oh and two ‘cause two can play this game.
But it’s only gonna be me playing tonight
With a mind, with a twig.
A little maple twig, soon to be shattered – if it’s dared put on my pitch.
Then the lights go out it’s just the three of us.
I’m laughing at you, you’re laughing at me,
But you’re a victim of my night
As I shoot an arrow through your heart.
You gotta learn to live with what you can’t rise above
The way my two finger rises and rides away
‘Cause it’s been money for muscle, another whiriligig,
And rockaway rockaway
On the tunnel of love. In this tunnel of love.
Down the pipe down the chute down the pike
I shoot the little seed,
The little pill-sized 5-ounce pea,
The tiny pea-sized 9-inch aspirin tablet,
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