Poison oak, some boyhood bravery.
When a telephone was a tin can on a string,
And I fell asleep with you still talking to me.
You said you weren't afraid to die.

In Polaroids you were dressed in women's clothes.
Were you made ashamed?
Why'd you lock them in a drawer?
Well I don't think that I ever loved you more,
Than when you turned away.
When you slammed the door.
When you stole the car,
And drove towards Mexico.
And you wrote bad checks,
Just to fill your arm.
I was young enough.
I still believed in war.

Well, let the poets cry themselves to sleep,
And all their tearful words will turn back into steam.
But me I'm a single cell, on a serpent's tongue.
There's a muddy field where a garden was.
And I'm glad you got away,
But I'm still stuck out here.
My clothes are soaking wet,
From your brother's tears.

And I never thought this life was possible.
You're the yellow bird that I've been waiting for.
The end of paralysis.
I was a statuette,
Now I'm drunk as hell,
On a piano bench.
And when I press the keys,
It all gets reversed.
The sound of loneliness,
Makes me happier.