and there are the dead birds that fly too high
past the powerlines
and they sink into the sand that's risin' up
way past where the horizon ends
and then it folds down like a crane
i guess they weren't made for these times.

and your dress had two big tears in it
you said one was for Marlon Brando
and the other one was for The New York Times
and the gypsies were drunk, they were half awake in the streets
and in the morning we covered them in the hospital sheets
that blew in on the cold windchimes

and i was sitting on my back porch when i had the moment of clarity
but i didn't so much realize it, as it was explained to me
that we need to watch things die
(that's what i said)
so that we can prepare
for when our hands are cold
and we lose all our hair
(i mean we're dead)

and when i was sitting there, it was the sun that told me
and he had a genial smile and a wide-brimmed hat
and when he smiled at me, well, i smiled back
there really was nothing else i could do

and he asked me why we try so hard to reach for the sky
when we should be thanking the ground for holding onto us
while the sky is dark and forboding, the earth is warm and loving
and really, it's all that we can actually trust


Lyrics submitted by acw88

Leaky Faucet Communist Impotence Blues song meanings
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