1. |
||||
|
Hot as hell in America’s Garden
The room was a trap that I wanted to fall in
Cursed with a crime and a governor’s pardon
The kiss left us stunned, one lost in relapse, the danger at hand was that time had elapsed
Yes, I’d love to converse
But first I think I need a drink
It’s that charm you possess, and the curve of your dress
That enchant, then turn me away
And your misty eyes keep this love alive
At least that’s the theory
And that’s good enough for me
That’s good enough for me
A klepto-romantic, she hoarded desires
And with whom she consorted, try but not buyers
So she turned to me, an odd candidate
For stealing my time she has got quite the knack, she used her sharp wit to stab me in the back
Yes, I’d love to converse
But first I think I need a drink
It’s that charm you possess, and the curve of your dress
That enchant, then turn me away
And your misty eyes keep this love alive
At least that’s the theory
And that’s good enough for me
That’s good enough for me
|
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2. |
Bones (Live)
03:41
|
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|
Dressed in white I keep a lookout
They’ll drop a fist upon my door
I keep a packed suitcase
And a crawlspace in the floor
To my maker, I’ll go stomping
Extolling all my sins
Though I don’t feel guilty
There’s no honor in the innocent
Howlin’ men turn the tide
The lost don’t get closer they hide
There’s proof in these bones, bones
My love’s in these bones
There’s a peace in the foundry
I’ll work ‘till the work gets done
Build my armor out of shrapnel
This thing that can survive a gun
Now no war can leave us bloody
‘Cuz we’re bleeding all the time
Still I’ll give away my plenty
To make it better down the line
Howlin’ men turn the tide
The lost don’t get closer they hide
There’s proof in these bones, bones
My love’s in these bones
|
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3. |
||||
|
Let’s take a cab, no I don’t want directions
Let’s take a cab, no I don’t want directions
Do you?
Can you say that you do?
Let’s stay on this ride, I lost my voice shouting
Let’s stay on this ride, I lost my voice shouting
You scream too
You’ve left your voice behind you
And it’s hard, hard, hard
To die
When you’ve so much left to prove
Let’s go to Mars, take an impossible journey
Let’s go to Mars, take an impossible journey
Just me and you
It will be better when it’s true
Let’s hold a parade, with the summer before us
Let’s hold a parade, with the summer before us
Walk in twos
The kids will walk with us through
And it’s hard, hard, hard
To march in lines
Without shoes
Light the candles, It’s an anniversary
Not for a wedding, but when school turned into splashing
Streams
You always said this was your dream
Shovels up child, digging holes for mud to fill
A perfect purpose, just demand to change what land has
Built
A picnic spread out on a quilt
And it’s hard, hard, hard
To change your mind
In your youth
|
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4. |
Plane to Albany (Live)
04:11
|
|||
|
Mercy, where’s your love
It seems that every answer’s
Loaded in a gun
And I’m not satisfied to
Go to sleep quite yet
Mercy, you’ve been shot down
And in your wake
You seemed to throw away
Those ticket stubs we saved
To remind us of those theatre days
It’s all been said before
I’ll try to keep this short
Forgetting words like ma’am and sir and
God
If I say you’re deadly,
It’s meant as a compliment
A compliment of the first
Degree
A train to California or
A plane to Albany
A grey hound bus to
To anywhere, that we can
Get for free
Dad will sit at home
With a towel rapped
Around his waist
Waiting by the telephone
To hear you’ve made it safe
It’s all been said before
I’ll try to keep this short
Forgetting words like ma’am and sir and
God
If I say you’re deadly,
It’s meant as a compliment
A compliment of the first
Degree
The shower smells of
Cinnamon
This bed is much too firm
The neighbors have a tape machine
Recording heads we’ve turned, on the
Balconies, smoke
Cigarettes
Inside we smoke them too
It’s not because we like them, no, but
Now we can be fools
It’s all been said before
I’ll try to keep this short
Forgetting words like ma’am and sir and
God
If I say you’re deadly,
It’s meant as a compliment
A compliment of the first
Degree
|
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5. |
Modern Artist (Live)
03:20
|
|||
|
Cut me down, I don’t want to feel this holding
The writing on the wall doesn’t read if you wrote it
What time in the evening is it?
Your door’s open, I’m not looking for a place to go
You painted the furniture
A shade of my favorite color
You’re a modern artist baby
You do it for the thrill
But there’s a line between
Your heart and being skilled
Turn around, this town’s not as you left it
Your clothes are still cool but how you walk in them is different
Old film in your camera makes everyone
Older than… you remember them
You are a dreamer
A time machiner
You’re a modern artist baby
You do it for the thrill
But there’s a line between
Your heart and being skilled
|
||||
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