It was after the bomb fell and the lingering light
Only seemed to make Jane Street look pale
And the thousands of books never read on the shelves
Might as well have been written in Braille
We out there cruising just last Saturday night
You looked like you did when we first fell
You were quoting the devil in the way Mark Twain might
In his probably most forgotten tale

Now I write these Letters From The Earth
I've been all alone here since my birth

It took some kind of strange imagination to hide
Such a gift as you had from your own eyes
Yet let someone as blind as this outcast from hell
Be so illuminated by its light
Everyone on Jane Street said it didn't feel right
Everything seemed normal otherwise
You were quoting the devil just like William Blake might
But to me you seemed kind of more like Christ