Frozen into coats ,
White girls of the Nor th,
Fire past one, fire the one,
They are the fabled lambs,
A Sunday ham,
The ancient snow.
And they can float above the grass,
In circles if t hey tried,
A latent power I know they hide,
To keep some hope alive,
That a girl like I c ould ever try,
Could ever try.
So we just ski rt the hallway si gns,
A phantom and a fly,
Follow the lines and wonder why
There's no connection.
And weakened falling eyes,
In cheap shots from the t ribe,
And we're often in Marcus'porch again,
Another afternoon with the gold h ead tunes,
And pi lfered booze.
We wandered t hrough your mama's h ouse,
And the milk from the win dow lights,
Family port rait circa ninety-five ,
This is that f oreign land,
With the spray ed on tans,
And it all fe els fine,
Beats circus sl ime,
So, when they t ap our mundane heads,
To zombie-walk in our st ead,
This town seems hardl y worth our time,
And we'll no longer memorize or rhym e,
To fall along in o ur crime,
Stepping over what now towers to the sky,
With no connection.
So, when they t ap our mundane heads,
To zombie-walk in our st ead,
This town seems hardl y worth our time,
And we'll no longer memorize or rhym e,
To fall along in o ur crime,
Stepping over what now towers to the sky,
With no connection.