1. |
Nevada
04:18
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I'm going back to old nevada
Where the sky is more blue
And you can sleep all day if you wanna
Here the champagne glasses are all filled with cheap beer
And the wine glasses are chipped around the sides
And the old men playing chess
And the girl in the white dress
Well, they drink hard and try not to decide
But I'm going back to old nevada
Where the sky is always blue
And you can float all day if you wanna
And here's what you get for desensitizing
Here's what you get for advertising the things that you've done
Well I feel like I'm an old drunk
When I'm stumbling late at night
When I walk in from the kitchen
And start turning off the lights
But I'm going back to old nevada
Where the sky is still blue
And you can drink all day if you wanna
-m. baker
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2. |
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3. |
Hound Dogs
05:44
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The patrolman is making his rounds through the town
And the school kids
They're all singing like hound dogs
And out in the park with the moon over heard
You can hear them
Howling
As a fox runs out like a fire-red shot
And a little bird's giving it all she's got
I saw you climbing out your window like a widow spider
I saw you driving 'round town with your eyes closed
I saw you stomping your feet on the side of the road
Where the grass grows high and the wind blows cold
Parking lot shadows drift away like blurred red lights
On the interstate
And out in the cold and the dark of the night
There are refinery lights on the
New Jersey Turnpike
I saw you climbing out your window like a widow spider
I saw you driving 'round town with your eyes closed
I saw you stomping your feet on the side of the road
Where the grass grows high and the wind blows cold
I remember a kid with a crooked smile
Asking the girl with the dark blue
Eyes
Saying 'won't you go down to the dirty old side streets,
where gypsies and bandits all stomp on their feet,
and we'll sing all our sorrows to the sycamore trees,
to the sycamore trees?'
I saw you climbing out your window like a widow spider
I saw you driving 'round town with your eyes closed
I saw you stomping your feet on the side of the road
Where the grass grows high and the wind blows cold
-m. baker
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4. |
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