Before the threat br And dismal cold gray br of mourning br Came the sun. br br And Charlie Comiskey br should've turned in his sleep br should've turned in his sleep br shoud've turned… br br Insane Sun br Floating above the earth br Like some extravagant madman br Spending next year's allowance. br br The same burning sun br In the same afternoons br In all the cities br East br and somewhat br West br of the br Great Mississippi. br br should've turned in his sleep br br Too many br Suns br In too many br Cities br Too many faces br Faces br in the face of it br All. br br How much grief? br Too br Much br Grief. br Too many faces br Too many suns br Far too many of too many things br Far too many of too many things. br br should've turned in his sleep br br More like Dali, br less Victoria. br The playing field becomes a landscape br Fixed and isolated and trapped br Between the borders of its own fabrication. br br The stadium faces br Blur br in the afternoon sun. br The celebration br Ends br in the afternoon sun br The victory becomes br Defeat br in the afternoon sun. br br Morality br Victoria Escaped br Insane sun. br br How many of how many things. br br The death of honor br The end of a fading br And final trust. br br should've turned in his sleep br br And as br The unsettling dust br Settles in the throat of all men br There are not enough beers br In all the bars br In all the world br To flush out the stale bitterness br Of too many afternoons br In too many suns. br br And Charlie Comiskey br woke up br and deposited the nightmare br in the pillow of his dream.