Self-Ignition

The correct lyrics according to David Berman via The Corduroy Suit (www.weeblackshelf.co.uk)

  oh self ignition, 
  i can feel her suitcase sensing mine
  she was her own permission,
  miss nineteen ninety ninety ninety nine nine nine nine

  charles james sofa, and a household truce
  and there every wednesday night beneath the counter booth

  i woke up in a house i could understand
  the descendants of defendants were making demands.

  gently thinking backwards 
  on the psychedelic promises god made to me in the dark
  some of these kids don't have words
  they're as helpless as parakeets in a park

  i couldn't believe it, when i saw that you wrote
  that a burning passenger shouldn't ruin the boat

  if dreams are your body telling you it's confused
  then i've got a dream i think you can use

  all lace and fiction
  in the lawless rooms where you finally lost your health
  i read the evening edition
  and the pumpkin on the porch is trying to heal itself

  i don't like magic, and i don't like tricks
  having a helluvah time believing we exist

  the mailman dreams he's paul revere
  he wants the whole town to buy him a beer

  and i have to remember that your not wanting me
  doesn't make me any less here