a song inspired by Bright Eyes

In New York according to Mr. Rogers, people find their feet
have turned to toy boats that float languidly down every flooded street
each footfall sighs forgotten psalms, then returns to join its fleet
of battleships to cross the Styx so we save the dead a seat

on a subway train that's taking us on a trip down mem'ry lane
for those among us without any, amnesia's just the same
it doesn't take much convincing to assure you you're still game
to rerun that NY marathon with a leg that is half lame

so you sail downtown to the doctor who asks you to fill a cup
he pumps your body full of drugs and proclaims you all fixed up
he pats your back and flats away with a good-natured hiccup
you go down to your favorite bar, tell the man to "fill 'er up"

just two scarlet pegs placed here and there, then my ship is sunk
who cares if all our captains stagger across the deck like drunks?
the enemy is creeping near so get the canons, light the punks
I'm prepared to go down singing, sir, I brought my swimming trunks

in this world we're all just sailors stranded out at sea
freedom requires swimming, it's the boredom that is free
we're on the lookout for a landmark that the crow's nest claims to see
but we're just a bunch of children screaming "HEY! Quit touching me"

So sick we even have scurvy dreams
An armada brat's life for me!