the city's blinking
on the tip of my tongue
and hollywood and vine
tastes like demon rum

yeah, the clock tower rings
and the oil well dips
and my father still sings
when hes taking a shit

but i'm burying my mom
gripping tight my black ball bomb
from the bench to a bench
the marks on the wall said i grew an inch
and the lava's been hard rock ever since

the moon said good-bye
i'm not coming back
now the open night sky
is just a field of black

but i'm still climbin my tree
now miles away
watching pigeons die
in every possible way

we're all bouncing in the baby's rattle
in between fields of dirty cattle

in ships
with sails hanging and ripped
the captain's crown is from a paper kit
and if the people want shit,
thats what they get

open the floor
open the floor
open the floor
there's someone underneath the stage
he's crying with a patience

he knows all the lines
hes heard them all
thousands of times
but he's willfully suspending disbelief
black isnt black isnt black isnt black isnt black

somewhere in between the dimlit bars
and the glass walls and shimmering cars

someone found a bullet for the old heirloom
now he's cuddled up tight underneath the living room

in a room of dinosaur bones
the baby cries from the rolling throne

with a hand in her purse, mamma strokes the gun
singing who won? who won?

back at home, the walls are shaking
she's rewinding all the clocks

while micky mouse laughs loud from in his cardboard box

heads shake until ground breaks, and it's a lovely sound
when black is back and eyeballs roll around

well look at what dinosaur found hovering above his ground
it's the key to the country, shining like shit
it's a cardboard fucking birthday crown--put it on

and watch the knees hit the floor
heads sorry for the past,
"we dont believe it anymore
we know that sin isn't something to be sorry for"

i love human beings
enough to make me sick
but i know their work
when i see it

if you are born onto the tangible land
with fucked up mind that cannot understand
the beliefs held by the common man
then life is a disaster and you'll kill it if you can
then you'll go to sleep
and you will rest in peace
and you will never be sorry

i was shot down by a cavalry
firing their bullets aimlessly
i wasn't shooting to leave any dead
no, i was aiming at the light bulbs above their heads

now i'm listening to a chain gently swing
beneath a spinning machine
after a terrible dream
and GHOSTS are quickly moving through my room
sent from cars on Franklin Ave

all the while you are watching carefully the flashing screen
from those old broken seats up on the mezzaniene
and you'll never have to recognize my blue and bloodless face
because someone burned down the old wooden stair case


Lyrics submitted by hankmay4

Family Road Trip song meanings
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