Every time I open my mouth
|
or take off my clothes
|
I'm raw and frostbitten from
|
being exposed
|
I got red scabby hands
|
and purple scabby feet
|
And you can smell me coming from
|
halfway down the street
|
|
And I remember that old hotel had quite the smell
|
where I'd go to use the phone
|
Between the donut shop and the pizza parlor
|
where I learned to live alone
|
Sweet sixteen and smiling
|
my way out of any jam
|
Learning the ways of the world, oh my
|
Learning the ways of man
|
|
And I didn't really want a baby
|
and I guess I had a choice
|
But I just let it grow inside me
|
this persistent little voice
|
And I guess I got her off and running
|
and run off is what she did
|
And that's part of what I think about
|
think about that kid
|
|
So now there's nothing left to wish upon
|
except for passing cars
|
The cacophony of city lights
|
is drowning out the stars
|
This park bench is a life boat
|
and the rest a big dark sea
|
And I'm just gonna lie here until
|
something comes and finds me
|
|
Yeah I got this tired old face
|
still grinning most of the time
|
Just 'cause it don't have a better way
|
to express what's on it's mind
|
And I got this running monologue
|
entertaining in it's outrage
|
And I've got the air of an animal
|
That's been living in a cage
|
|
Every time I open my mouth
|
or take off my clothes
|
I'm raw and frostbitten from
|
being exposed
|
I got red scabby hands
|
and purple scabby feet
|
And you can smell me coming from
|
halfway down the street
|
|
-----------------
|
Life Boat
|
| Ani DiFranco |
