Gnashville Lyrics

	Never in the night
	When the knot grows tighter
	than fingers can untie,
	and all the last half-damned
	rivers have gone dry
	does the cock crow thrice
	until someone is denied...
	or the morning comes.
	And you wonder, will you
	get your shit together?
	And what is that?
	A leather sofa and a feather in an old fur hat?
	A fake tat' lost in a
	box of cracker jacks?
	Practicing your plane wreck
	face in the first-class lav'?
	That's what the ghost of someone's dad might say.
	And when they come calling
	I won't go calm.
	There is no palm or divine mitt
	with which to hold one's pit,
	or separate the human race
	from its environment.
	No scattered ashes loosely gather
	asking where the fire went. No.
	We're left with half-true psalms
	in an indecipherable scrawl,
	in some vague extinct language,
	ancient ink dull, almost vanished
	on some old brittle scroll.
	That's what the ghost of
	someone's dad might say.

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