We hide
|
As their sidewalks crawl diseased
|
The ever-shopping hopping fleas
|
Their engines hum the suns reprise
|
|
We rise
|
To skies punctured with stars
|
She steers us through her Dogpatch bars
|
A barback nods, he's one of ours
|
|
As they sleep
|
Their city is awake and wide
|
Their city is awake and wide
|
We're aching inside, aching
|
Mistakes are waiting
|
Take me for a ride
|
|
My blood finally thick enough to drive
|
Marianne, last touch: 5:45
|
The highway's already alive
|
With the khakis teeming with caffeine
|
To coax the cursor 'cross the screen
|
The nervous tic-talking machine
|
|
All the lights go green
|
For me, Lord Legless, and my Sacred Rose tat queen
|
Ah - my Marianne
|
Tell your old man
|
We're nothing
|
Ah - my Marianne
|
Tell your old man we're nothing serious
|
|
From Lower Haight
|
To Sea Cliff Estates
|
Sped past their finest
|
Yet gave no chase
|
Brought our feast (their city)
|
Of Mission grease (their city)
|
To freeze our tits off (their city's awake)
|
On Baker Beach (their city's awake)
|
We rolled back to Polk (you rolled a smoke) (their city)
|
You killed the beams (and then I spoke) (their city)
|
|
Marianne I'm half his age (their city)
|
And half the man
|
Tell your old man (their city)
|
We're nothing serious
|
|
-----------------
|
Their City
|
| The Matches |
