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lyrics

You’re on page 38
Of Wise Blood
You don’t like Hazel Motes
Or preachers
You like that glary light
Makes his blue suit purple.

Ride that Greyhound, baby cried
Take you round the jazzed up fever of the Great White Way
A holiday for those who wander

You’ve seen that light before
In Hitchcock
You weren’t frightened then
You are now
Buzzing fluorescent lights
Breaking up your headphones

Ride that rocket, baby cried
Take it round the jazzed up ruins of the Great White Way

You told your sorry tale
For nothing
“Lonely Planet Boy”
Skipping
You’ve come back prodigal
To dance among the footlights.

Ride that rocket, USA
Can’t go any higher so take it low
A holiday for those who wander

credits

from Songbirds Lie, released August 23, 2004

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The Scene Is Now New York, New York

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