I looked up at the city with man colored eyes, and the city looked back at me and it cried. Don't I know I've been down this boulevard at least 1,001 times? I am in love with the woman inside. I want to get my motor fixed so I can drive. I've been living inside my room since it died. Well, it puttered, sputtered, shit the bed, oh, sparks went flyin'. This heart's in love with the woman inside. I went to see a picture show to please my poison mind. One with love and sex and death, that suits me fine. But, in the darkness of the room I felt surrounded by her kind. Surrounded by the woman inside. I picked up all the bread and the vegetables that I wanted to buy. The tomato looked up at me, he dreamily sighed, said "You're paralyzed, your face is red, but hey, so am I." Paralyzed by the woman inside. I gracefully bit the bullet in the grocery line. I scratched my beard, I casually checked the time. Though I doubt that I can keep it up, right now I'm doing fine then I'm in love with the woman inside. On the city bus in city heat doing 50 miles, they said this was the northbound truck but I think they lied. If I sit here long enough, maybe I'll figure why I am in love with the woman inside.

A chalk outline of my body has been running through my head, my third eye's telling me I'd be better off dead. If I shoot dice or do karate it still dominates my thoughts. Oh, I have gotta turn this movie off or I gotta watch it all night long. It'd be comforting or funny to worry about the money, I live inside my head so much I could sacrifice my eyes, What's the use of chasing time? Looks like the forefathers were right. Just chalk it up to hoping I make bail from the prison of my mind. A chalk outline of my body is creeping up real close, wearing the perfume of my father's ghost. And if I give it room to party well, that bash will be morose, so I have got to stand on tippie-toes or walk on water! Jesus knows! Blood in this baby's bonnet, meteors and comets, they're bombarding both my inner ears and making me go deaf. So I'll sleep under my bed with a bowl of collards my head. I'm seeking explanations for my bitter ways till I've got not sweetness left. A chalk outline of my body, it hides in my reflection. It's more startling than surprise erections! And when I try to teeter-totty, well, it commandeers that section of the playground with a strong conviction. My head needs a Caesarean section to let the blood and mucus and this macabre hoocus-poocus wash away like the Mississippi, and let me go to work. I'll give a tour of the south, a human megaphonin' shout! Oh, deary darling how do I get these demons out? I guess they're coming out my mouth.

The Wallingford is a bed and breakfast that sits on top a hill. We used to take the kids there before my wife got ill. The big old fashioned weathervane was squeakin' in the wind. Proudly served it's purpose once the spring blew in. The house is on a back road off of County Route 16. The rain in April always keeps the windows clean. You can always get hot biscuits, so longs the suns not down. And sometimes even after if you bring the kids around. [CHORUS] And I'm beginning to see it clearly now. It's there but it falls away. Oh, and I always thought that I paid so much attention. The surrounding grounds are soothing, though the hill's a little steep. There's a patch of woods where one time me and Rachel fell asleep. The scene is just as pretty as New England ever gets. The winter's cold but the house is dry when the winter's wet. There's a meadow full of yellow grass where the children run around and young couples from the city watch the sun go down. And when the sun goes down, the house lights up like the burning core. I took pictures once but I don't think I have them anymore. [CHORUS] The garden was so beautiful you'd wanna stand around and look. There were a couple favorite flowers that Em and Davey picked and took. But the children don't remember they were only three and five. And I don't know if it's in business still but that doesn't mean it's not alive. I can't tell you much about the people living there. I wish I could, and I don't want to say that I didn't care, But I got no business going back this memory's enough. It's taking me a long time but I think I'm growing up. [CHORUS]

So I guess I'll just sit here in Appomattox While the bigger men all speak their bigger words And pass the time by magnetizing checkers, Shootin' bugs, and eatin' birds. Birds, birds. So I guess I'll just sit here in Captain's Village While men with pastel fingers pillage the Kurds And kick up all the garden green 'cause Captain's code of conduct is obsurd. Birds, birds birds birds. Birds, birds, ba-ba-ba-bir-bir-b-b-birds. So I guess I'll just sit here in Treetrunk Belly And watch the finer and the finest drive their herds And Look at things that catch my fancy If I throw it their way, Birds birds birds. Birds, birds, ba-ba-ba-bir-bir-b-b-birds. Birds birds birds. Birds, birds, ba-ba-ba-bir-bir-b-b-birds. Birds birds birds. Birds, birds, ba-ba-ba-bir-bir-b-b-birds. Birds birds birds. Birds, birds, ba-ba-ba-bir-bir-b-b-birds. So I guess I'll just sit here in birds While birds my birds and birds my bitter birds And birds birds birds whilst soaking birds Birds birds birds birds birds birds Birds birds birds. Birds, birds, ba-ba-ba-bir-bir-b-b-birds. Birds birds birds. Birds, birds, ba-ba-ba-bir-bir-b-b-birds.

What makes a death so dirty? What makes sex so free? Depends mostly on statistics, depends if you're asking me. Where goes you with conviction? Where goes you with guilt and shame? Where goes you down to wash your hands? Oh, where goes you insane. I still don't think you're listening. Not to me, I mean, to god. Mercy is a locksmith, has it's own divining rod. It's got it's own divining rod. Looking on the floor for aspirin, for my splitting head of a life. I just make believe I love things, Lord have mercy on my wife. She light a candle for old time sake now, I lose myself in the dance of fire. And when I'm making myself a sandwich, I lose hell for being such a liar. Whether you push together cushions or make love to passersby, you can tear from all four sides now as you whistle, laugh, and die. You whistle, laugh, and die. [CHORUS] And I move with the wind, I cuddle with it's hand, I've offered up my innocence, and I still don't understand. Yet I know this for sure, and that anybody can, and one day we will go away, and maybe understand. We'll maybe understand. Hey there mashed potata, you are my only friend. You give way 'neath the weight of iron, but I like the way you bend. Oh, curiously, I mean business, in the way that lawyers do. It's just that every time I make a move the lawyers make one too. So, this be my final warning, good grace and good nature, for sure, are the only thing that are gonna keep you from breaking up with her. From breaking up with her. [CHORUS] You catch a cold so merrily. You're doing it again. "I'd like you to meet the cold," you said, "My one and only loyal friend." Sipping from a fractured skull, his pomegranate kiss, swaying drunk underneath the overpass, the only dance there is. But when you see he's gone away, in the bloody morning sun, you smell his poison on you and your wine lips are the smoking gun. Wine lips are the smoking gun. [CHORUS] I'd like to know for good now so I can tell my brother Sam, your opinion on the shadowmen, and who the hell you think I am. And I wish you wouldn't cry so much, 'cause it's poundin' out my ears. And it's gushing down my nose, and great, now it's bringing me to tears. And all the shadowmen are watchin' me. They think I'm puttin' out a sign. For our magic incognito gang to read your and my dissenting minds. Read your and my dissenting minds. [CHORUS] On an island in the tropics they're drawing us as gods. With Davinciesque proportions, giving them such approving nods. And you still believe that mismash about "the rich mush help the lame?" Or "we should kill the murderers and rapists?" Well, it's driving me insane. I'll just sit and be a figure, not presumptuous or cool, but just sitting as a figure of The Prettiest Mule. I'm The Prettiest Mule! [CHORUS] Out looming on the horizon, a sign of the times, or a harbinger of destruction, but I'm not so good with signs. Just don't forget about your brother, whatever it ends up being. Tip your hat and wish me luck if you are seeing what i'm seeing. On the corner of Canal Street, near the hall of fun and games, Your family is on fire, son, but you don't know their names. No, you don't know their names. [CHORUS] x 2