1. |
chickens
04:12
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pencil me into your schedule
between the coffee pot and the grave
it's a January morning and the air is
creeping into the lines of your face
put me in the driver's seat
I'll watch for the county lines
my head won't stop complaining but i like
the green of the mile marker signs
say it quietly, every sound is a
truck full of chickens
racing down the pavement
road anxiety; every town is a
truck full of chickens
racing to their deathbeds
when I tiptoe down the hallway
the whole house is alive and awake
there’s a diesel engine chorus through the wall
where yard sale paintings shake
put me in the window sill
give me some light in the valley of death
the people in the paintings will not save me
when I run out of breath
say it quietly, every sound is a
truck full of chickens
racing down the pavement
road anxiety; every town is a
truck full of chickens
racing to their deathbeds
what if the city on the hillside
is filled with cages on the inside?
all of its wealth and comforts won't stop
us from dying in the landslide
so say it quietly, every sound is a
truck full of chickens
racing toward the exits
road anxiety; every town is a
truck full of chickens
racing to their deathbeds
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Your Ex's Pets Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
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