Fly on a Windshield

There's something solid forming in the air
And the wall of death is lowered in Times Square
No one seems to care
They carry on as if nothing was there

The wind is blowing harder now
Blowing dust into my eyes
The dust settles on my skin
Making a crust I cannot move in
And I'm hovering like a fly
Waiting for the windshield on the freeway

Echoes of "The Broadway Everglades"
With their mythical madonnas
Still walking in their shades
Lenny Bruce declares a truce
And plays his other hand
Marshall McLuhan, casual viewing
Head buried in the sand

Sirens on the rooftops wailing
But there's no ships sailing
Groucho, with his movies trailing
Stands alone with his punchline failing

Ku 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 almond

Caryl Chessman sniffs the air
And leads the parade
He knows, in a scent
You can bottle what you made

There's Howard Hughes in blue suede shoes
Smiling at the Majorette, smoking Winston cigarettes

And as the song and dance begins
The children play at home
With needles
Needles and pins