B C N C: A MAP OF BLACK CONGO NC

BCNC — Joni

You say “Our love is lost.”
I say “Well, there never was a map anyway.”
And so we burned some heart-shaped holes
in every single map we had
We even burn heart-shaped holes
in that great antique atlas
Our love is art
So let’s stay in tonight
And make art
And then we’re contacted by the curator
Of a downtown folk art gallery
She swears our art could sell there
For five grand apiece
And we say, “Hell five grand
could buy us everything we’d ever need,
probably.”
Our love is art
So let’s stay in tonight
And do crafts
Make art, a tattoo
Of you, on my arm
So it’s been fifteen years
And we’re forced to live
In different hemispheres
Because the whole world has gone to war
Me, Tropic of Cancer
You, Tropic of Capricorn
And they’ve blown heart-shaped holes
In the museums where the art works once were
Yes, they’ve burned heart-shaped holes
In the museums where the art works once were
Our love is art
So let’s stay in tonight
And make art
A tattoo of you
On my arm
Is my beauty mark
A tattoo of you
On my arm
Is the flag under which
My rebel armies will march