Foals in winter coats White girls of the North, File past one, five and one,
They are the fabled lambs of Sunday ham, the EHS norm And they could float above the grass in circles if they tried
A latent power I know they hide To keep some hope alive that a girl like I could ever try, Could ever try
So we just skirt the hallway sides
A phantom and a fly
Follow the lines and wonder why
There's no connection
A week of rolling eyes, and cheap shots from the trite,
And we're often on marcus porch again,
Another afternoon with the goathead tunes, And pilfered booze.
We wander through her mamma's house
The milk from the window lights
Family portrait circa '95 This is that foreign land of the sprayed-on tans
And it all feels fine Be it silk or slime
So, when they tap our Monday heads
To zombie walk in our stead This town seems hardly worth our time
And we'll no longer memorize or rhyme,
Too far along in our climb Stepping over what now towers to the sky, With no connection
Oooh waooooooo waooooooo Oooh waooooooo waooooooo Oooh waooooooo waooooooo Oooh waooooooo waooooooo
So when they tap our Sunday heads Two zombies walk in our stead This town seems hardly worth our time And we'll no longer memorize or rhyme, Too far along in our crime, Stepping over what now towers to the sky, With no connection
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