The lubricant fell. One panther caught on tape is not appalling. But two can make the sky rain lime. And so the detective haunts the empty sugarcane streets. He stops by the bell. It rings. It rings for liberty and gondolas. Three roads down, a piano has fallen from the balcony. It lands on the policeman, who gets up and says a word that sounds like "Burundi", but isn't. The acorns roll down the hill. They roll like wolves in cylinder dahlias. Everyone cries. Some in joy. Some in cardboard boxes. Before them all lies the royal guard. Standing in single file, they hold aloft the wooly kitten.Devendra Banhart - Hey Miss Cane (track 9 from Oh Me Oh My... The Way the Day Goes By The Sun Is Setting Dogs Are Dreaming Lovesongs of the Christmas Spirit)
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