It gets old hiding out
in the faceless godless south,
in this American nuclear town,
inside the devil’s mouth.
It gets old being blessed
with a love so underdressed,
wearing nothing but bulletproof vests,
‘cause ‘round here, they just aim for the chest.
But we got what we want,
this mirrored house to haunt,
a set of chemical bumper-car thoughts,
the blood that never clots.
And we got what we hate,
that slow sinking parade,
that aching glacial change,
oh, and this impossible wait.
If I could fuck my way to the top, I would,
or I think I could if I thought I should,
but we fucked our way to the bottom, and that’s just as good.
So we were screaming at each other to make great art,
or mediocre art, or get jobs selling cars,
but then the screaming stops, and the real hell starts.
And before it could catch up to me, it got you,
and before we knew there were three, there were two, oh.
And we were back at the hospital staring at our fists,
back where we started, sleeping in shifts
with the cake-bearing cosmos apologists,
and that’s a goddamn shame.
Shit, I don’t know what to say.
That’s a goddamn shame.
Shit, I don’t know.
Goddamn, it’s colder than hell. I guess we got turned around
‘cause setting fire to ourselves just set fire to the house
and the fans wanna know as the roof comes down,
“If you weren’t scared of death, how do you feel about it now?”
Well, we can’t look at each other, we can’t look in the mirror
at the crater that’s left of our train wreck year
now that the tracks cut out and the floor disappears.
Well, there's nothing left to say, but there's plenty left to fear.
And it came back to me, when I was seventeen,
when I was ripping out the wires I thought made me weak,
but the best-laid plans get fucked by people like me,
oh, but this time, it’s worse, oh, this atheist grief.
And you were staring at your hands like it was you in your veins,
and I knew, right then, this American shame,
and I knew, right then, this infinite maze,
and I knew there was no one else to blame,
and that’s a goddamn shame.
Shit, I don’t know what to say.
That’s a goddamn shame.
Shit, I don’t know.
No, I can’t stop drinking.
I can’t stop drinking.
I can’t stop thinking about names.