Lemon gin, corn fields plowed under. Cigarettes, Southern Comfort with your friends behind the bleachers it?s my first dance. He?s gonna beat it in the
Dance, locust, dance. The prophets shrug their shoulders as calamity's child lost her head in the bell of the trumpet's blast. I know you just want
You took hold of my affections With your Bible and your sword Your celebrity connections I was not used to keeping score From your fine guilded chalice
Lamps of kerosene Up in the north country Air is cool, and the lakes are seething The sun sets, I can not describe this feeling I followed you down
Drunk again, 6pm Beautiful, ugly weekend Stayin' out, and sleeping in I love it when my girlfriend calls me a cock sucking faggot Writing rock n' roll
It was in your basement apartment with all of its earth and sea making love on the carpet under the light of the tv outside the sour moon minstrels
You took your brownie hawkeye and pointed it up at the sky you just let the shutter fly all of your friends still wonder why you were never good with
We're all fugitives of American portions Got only sleeves n yesterday's calling card from fresh cut grass out on the interstate where wheels keep on
So this is the day of the dead Of St. Jude and the lady of Guadeloupe Apples and oranges And silver coins for ghosts to gamble with Marigolds and candles
It hurts, love hurts Words, there are no words I was sorry then, I'm sorry now I'm sorry that I let you down, I let you down I'm aflood with disaster
You took your brownie hawkeye And pointed it up at the sky You just let the shutter fly All of your friends still wonder why You were never good with
It was in your basement apartment With all of its earth and sea Making love on the carpet Under the light of the TV Outside the sour moon minstrels Shook
Dance, locust, dance The prophets shrug their shoulders as Calamity's child lost her head In the bell of the trumpet blast I know you just wanna be on
Well, I got your invitation But it never crossed my mind Your casual obliteration Would cross the line On a rainy day highway And the melancholy got
Honey, I don't know why I get so mean Honey, I don't know why I get so mean You never earned it, you don't deserve it Honey, I don't know why I get so
Lemon gin, corn fields plowed under Cigarettes, Southern Comfort With your friends behind the bleachers It's not this dance, he?s gonna be there In the
Waiting for the world to come home Everybody's gone, I'm here all alone Waiting for the world to come home Waiting for the world to come knocking on
I've been stunned by the clarity Of your peripheral vision Now I know it wasn't fair of me To always offer my opinion I guess I should learn that sooner
