way in overhead
|
caught off guard by the gutter
|
everybody's spending his time
|
just building and making
|
someday someone will say, for what
|
nine to five in a blind alley
|
equals three sheets to the wind
|
can't remember when it started
|
don't know where that it ends
|
|
and there's never a dull day
|
when you're beaten by nonfiction
|
God still reads the headlinesthe front page hope is missing
|
|
working away on a rebuilt freeway
|
straight away from the slash and burn cities
|
hindsight is there
|
on a roadsign pointed nowhere
|
no one gets off here
|
no way to slow down
|
there's peace of mind somewhere
|
for every someone that never thinks about it
|
|
and there's never a dull day
|
when you're beaten by nonfiction
|
God still reads the headlineswe're all listening
|
|
for every drop of sweat that it takes
|
to speak out in wonder
|
never knowing how or when to duck next
|
just sitting here punch drunk, all the wiser
|
|
-----------------
|
Punch Drunk
|
Uncle Tupelo |