Looking at a street light in the jungle
a man walks past a puddle by the curb,
past a parked car, past a remaining tree.
Light, like thin, white, ethereal honey,
flows over the scene, over the parked car,
over the puddle and over the tree.
Light, like thin, white, ethereal honey
processed from magical pollen gathered
by magical bees and then pumped through wires
flows over the man standing in the street
looking at a street light in the jungle
during a calm moment when dinosaurs
aren’t chasing someone caught unaware
and people aren’t pleading for someone
to tell them how to stay alive till dawn.
The man ignores whatever might emerge
from the puddle and he doesn’t get in
the parked car to check if the tank has gas.
‘The light is like white honey,’ the man thinks.
‘Like weird alchemy. Electricity,
wires, filaments, vacuums, glass transmuted
to this fluid that illuminates things.’
Somewhere, someone screams. The man stands thinking,
looking at a street light in the jungle.
It’s a jungle out there
Disorder and confusion everywhere
No one seems to care
Well I do
Hey who’s in charge here
It’s a jungle out there
Poison in the very air we breath
You know what’s in the water you drink
Well I do
It’s amazing
People think I’m crazy
To worry all the time
If you paid attention
You’d be worried too
You better pay attention
Or this world we love so much
Might just kill you
I could be wrong
But I don’t think so
Cause it’s a jungle out there
It’s a jungle out thereRandy Newman’s Theme from “Monk”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Cell Phones, Street Lights, Something Like Honey
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