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Well it's cold, and you're bored |
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From counting the smart cars on 94 |
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When you dream you're back home |
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But the lakeside won't trust you to walk alone |
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Hollow trees, talk of hand[?] |
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All the neckties are toasting with empty cans |
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And you know why she's gone |
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Clothes in the river, drifting on |
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Slide down south |
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When once in a while your confidence leaves you |
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Like smoke falls out her red mouth |
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Well she left you the holes |
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The tracks in the back yard, December snow |
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But those sad souvenirs |
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They end at the fenceline, and they disappear |
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Why you'd follow her there? |
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Milwaukee's a deaf ear for winter prayers |
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There's no night, there's no day |
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With only hope in your pocket, and hell to pay |
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Slide down south |
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When once in a while your confidence leaves you |
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Like smoke falls out her red mouth |
