A Cadillac drives down my street,
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A bead of sweat pouring slow down a palm line.
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I see a bumper sticker: it's a bearded man with a wanted sign
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A myth we've made to scare our fears away;
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A slogan that we slap on all our misdirected hate;
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A muddy symbol meant to mitigate our pain,
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But it's really just a desert corpse we painted on a wall out in some cave, anyway.
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I don't know where he's gonna park that thing.
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My neighborhood drunk's on line at the deli
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With his shaky hands and swollen face he waits for his coffee.
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He blacks out curbside every night, and every day crawls back toward Wall Street.
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So I don't see it like it's "us" and "them"
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I just see everybody working for that same eternal weekend
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Droning on and on and on and never doing what we've wanted
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Heavy legs, two steps behind some forever-dangling carrot.
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And I'm tired of it.
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Well, who's to say that we can't just fucking change it?
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Well I know it seems DRAMATIC but I treat it like a crisis --
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From the office to the coffin, all our time and talent wasted
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And that weight against your throat, is that a noose dressed like a necklace?
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From here, I couldn't really tell the difference.
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Either way, I say let's not take any chances
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'Cause I don't know where he's gonna park that thing.
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No, I don't know where he's gonna park that thing.
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No, I don't know where he's gonna park that thing.
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-----------------
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Noose Dressed Like A Necklace
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| Kevin Devine |
