Watery, Domestic

Here we go

She’s on a hidden tableau

Just a two for one

And a two for one is right

Down my alley sight

I’m just a wasted beehive

Don’t you know it’s an easy thing when it’s lost

Does it show when the ends are frayed and it’s tossed out

Lined with silver thread

I’ve seen your wasted beehive

She’s so lackadaisical

Should’ve been a west coast bride

Backseat on electric glide

And pilots flying drive by fades

Don’t hold your breath too long

This tunnel is a Texas mile

Galaxies and yellow eyes

Bleach a daisy second prize

Cherry picking vagrants

My dashboard’s locked, I guess I’d feel fine

The way the river bends

The one who’s bendin’ over me

(Texas, Texas)

I am the only one searchin’ for you

And if I get caught

Then the search is through

And the stories you hear, you know they never add up

I hear the natives fussin’ at the data chart

Be quiet, the weather’s on the night news

Empty homes, plastic cones

Stolen rims, are they alloy or chrome?

Well, I’ve got style

Miles and miles

So much style that it’s wasting

So much style and it’s wasted

So much style and it’s wasted

Now she’s the only one who always inhales

Paris is stale and it’s war if we fail

And in the migrant hotels, they never sleep

They never will

Their souls are crumblin’ like a dirt clod, hold

Your cigarette cupped to the inside

Empty homes, plastic cones

Stolen rims, are they alloy or chrome?

Well, I’ve got style

Miles and miles

So much style that it’s leavin’

This pattern’s torn and we’re weavin’

This pattern’s torn and we’re weavin’ in it

Every building same height

Every street a straight line

Team colors yellow and blue

Cheerlead single file

Perfect smiles unaffected

And you won’t forget

Our colors blue

No you won’t forget it

Twenty miles westward

Home of the Redbirds

Team colors crimson blue

Open up your purses

For the boys to reimburse us

With a goal line stand on fourth and two

And that goal line stand

Ha!

Summer’s dry and fallow

Reservoirs are shallow

Spillways unexposed

It’s never been inspected

When the government’s elected

And the fields will turn to yellow, too

Now the fields will turn…

Someone took in these pants

Somebody painted over paint

Painted wood

And where he stood, no one stands

It’s been said he’s sitting now

In the churning land

Well, I’ve seen saints, but remember

That I forgot to flag ’em down

When they passed

And in the morning light

You hold that ashtray tight

You could put it out

But I can’t put it out

My hands shook, down and out

I’ve got the blisters of the world

World new

I name the book after you

So look up and watch the camera lens

When the risers fade

Slow it down! Song is sacred!

And brother, you’re a hunter

And you’re right at home

And in the morning light

I’ll hold my ashtray tight

I could take it down

And you can’t take it down

La-da-da-da-da-da-da

La-da-da-da-da-da-da

La-da-da-da-da-da-da

La-da-da-da-da-da-da

La-da-da-da-da-da-da

La-da-da-da-da-da-da

Don’t expect

Don’t expect

Don’t expect

Don’t expect

Don’t expect

Don’t expect

Don’t expect