I want my records back
and that motorcycle gas tank
that I, spraypainted black
the owls have been talking to me
but I'm sworn to secrecy
I woke up in
a burnt out basement
sleeping with
metal hands
in a spirit ditch
the moon it will rise with such
horse laughter
it's dragging pianos to the ocean
if I had a home
you'd know it'd be
in a slide trombone
I woke up in
a burnt out basement
sleeping with
metal hands
in a spirit ditch
