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Lit By Your Phone † The Sea Won't Take Long † Light in the Aisles
Lit By Your Phone
ride you home † devil's shoes † god made cars † green plastic soldiers † montana † snow day † the hole in me † snack † dashboard † not enough † fireflies † what have you done to the moon?
ride you home
| hey you lost old barn owl on my hospital TV |
| don't worry about the nurses now they don't know what they can't see |
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| I'm gonna ride you home, over the sucker's lawn, I'm gonna ride you home |
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| dirty little angel band underneath my bed |
| I can feel their winter hands trying to steal my cigarettes |
(chorus)
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| nurse from the night shift staring at an empty bed |
| hands from comfort care waving to us overhead |
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devil's shoes
| sam was a big man, he came around the corner with $47 in his hand |
| they found him last night, starting to rot, down by the pathmark parking lot |
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| I know that's not the name that your parents gave you |
| it's better to go barefoot than to wear the devil's shoes |
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| rollerbag joe underneath the bridge counting up the quarters left to go |
| and where he is now no one notices the rain |
| slumped like a businessman sleeping on a train |
(chorus)
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| well I followed him through the wires down to the broken glass playground |
| we were almost there when he turned around talking to someone from long ago |
| his eyes were shaking and as dirty as his coat |
(chorus)
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god made cars
| O I don't need the napking map you drew for me |
| cause I can see where your eyes are |
| bright as supermarkets, wide as highways |
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| and the summer spilled her nail polish all over my steering wheel |
| "you know you'll never get that off , but there you are" |
| that's why god made cars |
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| so get a light up globe and plug it in the dashboard lighter |
| and fill the windshield with glow tape stars |
| that's why god made cars |
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| there's a billboard for every broken heart |
| and a shoulder to pull off and cry on |
| cause no one can see you there when you're in your car |
| that's what you told me, and I believed you |
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green plastic soldiers
| green plastic soldiers melt in an ashtray |
| I drank a hole in your birthday |
| came by to see you, I saw your mother's car |
| so I just kept driving to the bar |
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| there's nothing left to do but go crazy for you |
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| they sent you home in your uniform |
| I shot your picture off the tire in the backyard |
| I'll keep the pills and the military discount |
| I'll let your sister pack the house |
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montana
| god made montana an adult-sized portion |
| he made the roads wide, and soft as Samantha Morton |
| he watches from the sky with his big billboard eyes |
| sometimes the hardest thing is the easiest to do |
| she stood there waving like the flag they left on the moon |
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| there's no where to go, so you're always wherever you are |
| and you can turn off your lights and drive for hours by the stars |
| I never know what I'll find |
| In my thrift-store mind |
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snow day
| darling promise me you'll kill me in my sleep |
| if I'm still waiting tables this time next year |
| I saw the summer breathe on my window |
| wrote something there and watched it disappear |
| and I waited for the rain to change your mind |
| but it changed mine, it changed mine |
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| I put away my worries |
| they're just birds bouncing off of buildings |
| tomorrow morning I'm gonna wake up beautiful |
| go chasing december for a snow day |
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| and when her heart got too full she carved a little room |
| turning good news into bad in the Telephone bar bathroom |
| and I waited for the wind to bring her back |
| now she's just a thumbtack on my map |
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hole in me
| he t-shirt said "justtin I'm legal" |
| she was a sugarbowl in the door to an empty hall |
| tiny commandments fell from her eyelids |
| her skullmask mascara was black as a bible |
| and when she looked up the night was wet as the sea |
| she raised her hand and slipped in to the hole in me |
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| there's nothing longer than indiana |
| and no place better to get lost |
| four hundred miles of one word answers |
| the windows up, the radio off |
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| the officepark parking lot still knows my card |
| and no one hears the steps behind mine |
| new jersey sunset still wakes with my computer |
| but in the screen I see another pair of eyes |
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snack
| he had georgia dirt and wolves on his shirt |
| stars on his road-tan arm |
| he came in when you were a convenient blue |
| in a convenient greenpoint bar |
| you cried your way through the kitchen, cried over all the magazines |
| you cried until your eyes had drained all their green |
| i know you say he was a moon landing for you |
| blonde-on-blonde times back in black |
| you say you don't understand, no you don't understand |
| you were just a snack |
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| you're up in that window crying "nobody cares for me" |
| calm down, come down someone does |
| you never thought to see |
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dashboard
| the dashboard is covered with spent conversations |
| she's a summer girl and it's fall |
| magic marker sundays and soft considerations |
| are stacked up like boxes on the sidewalk |
| and I'm only crying cause the floor is dirty |
| I only wrote your name there cause I might forget it someday |
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| we could make a sunset of this river of brakelights |
| please stop crying now you know this coffee's bad enough |
| I could wear a tie for you but it would never hang right |
| I can't do your daylight hours, I wouldn't recognize you in makeup |
top
not enough
| you roll the world on its side and everything is bruised |
| you still come over and leave the night with nothing to do |
| your clothes they are no match for the rain |
| the message you left was only a stain |
| the walls they cannot hold the room |
| I'm not waiting for you I'm not waiting for you |
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| you balanced your weekend on the fire escape |
| spent sunday knocking it off |
| everyone tells you you're too much |
| but you're not enough, you're not enough |
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fireflies
| I could tell that she was raised by firefiles |
| by the light coming off the spokes in her greenpoint eyes |
| the summer dropped us off at a wild blue address |
| with november waiting for us already halfway out of her dress |
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| and she said let's have a parade for the cosmonauts |
| that the Russians shot off into space, lost and forgot |
| we'll park a trailer on the roof and build a nest of radios |
| so they can have a place if there ever get home |
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| the last time I saw her she was standing on the edge |
| lit by her phone with her hand over her head |
| saying "everything lasts forever and it's all already gone |
| so you can let go, or you can hold on.... |
| but how can you wait? how can you wait? |
| how can you wait? how can you wait? |
| how can you wait? how can you wait? |
| how can you wait? how can you wait? |
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what have you done to the moon?
| what have you done to the moon? |
| it crawls in my window and lies there breathing like you used to |
| what have you done to the moon? |
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| what have you done to the rain? |
| it fills your best suit to dance at the end of the driveway again |
| what have you done to the rain? |
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| I saw your car on my street. That's all I need. |
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| what have you done to the time? |
| an hour ago I was a wild-haired child |
| what have you done to the time |
| what have you done to the rain? |
| What have you done to the moon? |
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