The Empty Shell (Heumann)

this place is curved and copper-tinged
I'm aquamarine, measured in fathoms
he has no tounge to taste the brine
because he's an empty shell

she holds on to his arm and leans
he sips his drink and says the right thing
sometimes a fuzzy plan succeeds
hatched out of an empty shell

it's like that swindle on the streets
the one that everybody loses
the thimblerigger hides the pea
they're betting on empty shells

the vacuous and the esteemed
walk hand in hand into the distance
the battlefields and beaches gleam
all covered in empty shells