Birth of Serpents

Let the camera pull back
 'Till the fullness of the frame is clear and plain
 Peer into the screen until you see it all
 Like a vision in a crystal ball
 
 Let it all fill with smoke
 Is this somebody's idea of a joke?
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 Let the fixer work until the silver's washed away and take a picture from the tray
 Look hard at what you see and then remember you and me
 And let the truth spring free
 Like a jack-in-the-box, like a hundred thousand cuckoo clocks
 From the Oregon corners to the Iowa corn
 To the rooms with the heat lamps where the snakes get born
 Crawl through the tunnel and follow, follow the light northwest
 See that young man who dwells inside his body like an uninvited guest
 See the tunnel twist, clutch your birthright in your fist
 Let the camera do its dirty work down there in the dark
 Sink low, rise high, bring back some blurry pictures to remember all your darker moments by
 Permanent bruises on our knees never forget what it felt like to live in rooms like these
 From the California coastline to the Iowa corn
 To the rooms with the heat lamps where the snakes get born