Molotov Swell.
And if you are wineThen I must be turpentine It’s 3 o’clocknot quite as dark as it could getthe first frost was swept back to the seaand the rainkeeps me
Matador.
I am a matador, my mother told me soShe brought the message to me all the way from San FranciscoShe said, “Hold this cloak tight in your hands,you’re destined for
the March of the Rabbit
frightened beyond beliefit had no mindthe rabbit brought itself to bearon his whitened eyeit focused, grew in numbersmultiplied keep them running,we keep them running we focused on his headhis brain
the MARC.
are you traveling to New York with your guitar?or are you going off alone?are you meeting someone?will you think of me when you get there?do you think of me at
Lower Thank You.
I am so smallhave been and always willbut you found a wayto make me smaller stillguess it’s a talentI don’t possessmust be a talentI guess So I will fall on
Love a Girl Gone.
You fell for a girl fell for wanderlust first.Devil in the spirit that’s blessing and curse.Makes the holding sweeter, makes it hard to hold on,But can you love a girl
LooseN.
I think we proved itmy guitar sounds better in the darklike our faces, all floatingsouls protected I think we think better in the dark. all narcotic all soakingI’m spoiled by
Looking Back.
I can’t open my eyes todayall the scars are fresh & the memory won’t go awayI can’t quite manage a civil tongue in my headI guess I best stay in
Letters from the Front.
I bought a Che Guevara T-shirtand vowed my revolution,But I have yet to wear it –It’s still hanging in my closetbeside the blue jeans I had onwhen we abandoned our
Leave Me Lonely.
Here I go again, waiting for you to come find meHere I go again, always some little thing to remind me. I don’t even know if you’re living in the