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The holes of highway bones are filled |
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But the tolls of highway loans are billed |
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To the board of directors of boredom, here |
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So I slept outside the worried exit |
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And hurried to avoid the decrepit |
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Hordes of fallen Lords, I can't afford'em, dear |
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But overwhelmed is a laughing word |
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To say you've taken for granted stillness |
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On an ever-moving planet |
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Was the glacier's falling heard |
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Was the crumbling porch's utter realness |
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Made of ash or made of granite? |
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Oh, I'm so longing for my mama's kiss |
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And scratching my old lifetime's back |
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That simpleminded tenderness |
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Is a pity that my searches lack |
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The graveyard breathes reality |
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But reality's blurred outside my gate |
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No matter if I hesitate |
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The foggy lilac windows come |
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And dumb my number one ambition |
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And it's too much repetition |
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The south was knee-deep in the weeds |
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And I was in a plank-wood parlor |
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Every flame from every mouth was only worth a dime |
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Feeling easier to move than shifting reeds |
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I was wearing my times on my collar |
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But my colors don't get bright in season's time |
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Your biggest grid did shrink and sink |
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In one night's walk of blindness |
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To foreign sites where bright lights find you out |
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When evolution is extinct |
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And lurking is a fossil's kindness |
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And there's no one left under our sun to sign you out |
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And the piano strings are damp and deep |
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And the honky-tonk is breaking free |
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And the second-grader that you keep |
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Beneath your skin is next to me |
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Ah, who likes, who plays these games |
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And who is clutching to the reins |
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'Cause I scurried open plains |
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And the foggy lilac windows come |
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And dumb my number one ambition |
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And it's too much competition |
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And that bleached canal was rare |
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And Ma was there |
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And no one dared to care (about tomorrow) |
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The road is bare |
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I go nowhere |
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And all the joy that I'm aware (is food for sorrow) |
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The loft upstairs is unprepared |
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The billboard fields are stoned in pairs |
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The gravel layers and river dares |
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And the air is very weary |
