Key Lime Pie

[instrumental]

[instrumental]

Well i lost an eye in mexico
Lost two teeth where i don't know
People see me comin' and they move to the other side of the road
I robbed a liquor store or two
Made myself at home a few times
Borrowed myself a car when i needed it
I got me a shack at the bottom of the road
Fixin' cars and givin' tows
Spend all my money on the lottery
When i win the lottery gonna buy all girls on my block
A color tv and a bottle of french perfume
When i win the lottery gonna donate half my money to the city
So they have to name a street or a school or a park after me
When i win the lottery
Never run a flag up a pole
Like mr. red, white, and blue down the road
But i never called myself a hero for killing a known communist
Now i can walk into any old bar
Find a fight without looking too hard
But i never killed someone i don't know just 'cause someone told me to
And when i win the lottery
Gonna buy the house next to mr. red, white and blue
And when i win the lottery
Gonna buy post 306 american legion, paint it red with five gold stars
When i win the lottery
When the end comes to this old world
The rights will cry and the rest will curl up
And god won't take the time to sort your ashes from mine
'cause we zig and zag between good and bad
Stumble and fall on right and wrong
'cause the tumbling dice and the luck of the draw just leads us on
And when i win the lottery, gonna buy all the girls on my block
Silver-plated six shooters and a quart of the finest highland scotch
'cause when i win the lottery, the rights will shake their heads and say that
God is good but surely works in mysterious ways
When i win the lottery

I remember his hat tilted forward
His glasses are folded in his vest
And he seems like the kind of man who beats his horses
Or the dancers who work at a bar
We saw on the screen his face for a moment
No time to plead or even ask why
Jack ruby appeared from out of nowhere
Then disappeared in broad daylight
'cause he's a friend of that cloven-hoofed gangster the devil
He's been seen with the sheriff and the police
Drinking whiskey and water after hours, saying
"let's do business, boys. the drinks are on me."
So draw the box along quickly
Avert your eyes with shame
Let us stand and speak of the weather
And pretend nothing ever happened on that day
Grant us the luxury, 'cause all our heroes are bastards
Grant us the luxury, 'cause all our heroes are thieves
Of the innocence of the afternoons
Now we think it's a virtue to simply survive
But it feels like this calm it's decaying
It's collapsing under its own weight
And i think its your friend the hangman coming
Choking back a laugh, a drunkard swaggering to your door
Now do you feel that cold, icy presence?
In the morning with coffee and with bread
Do you feel it in the movement of traffic
And days are terrible, simply forget

Flowers growing
By the drunken river
Flowers growing
By the burning bridges
Flowers growing
Out of my bones
On the toppled towers flowers growing
On an island above flowers growing
Behind a mirror, behind a door
Flowers growing
Drifting fires of orange flowers
Roll down the stair, down from a star
Where they lie so long, beneath the seasons
Dead among the
On the toppled towers flowers growing
By the drunken river flowers growing
On an island above flowers growing
Out of my bones
Drifting carpets of orange flowers
Roll down the stairs, down from a star
Where they lie so long, beneath the seasons
Dead among the
Drifting fires of orange flowers
Lift from your eyes, out with a breath
Where they lie so long, beneath the seasons
Dead among the flowers growing

What did it mean to fly
A tremor in your soul
To resist the dull existence of gravity
Upward bound, trees fly
Two meadows and a fields
And the border is a simple line of hills
Ah, didja come uncoiled
Between heavens and the earth
Whispered nonsense into your radio
Now afternoons you seldom move
Grounded to a little bit of earth
And, after all, time barely crawls
Unoccupied, between each breath it sticks
What did it mean to fly
When you were bound to the earth
A release from the humid press of days
Now afternoons it hardly moves
I wonder how you make it through each day
And, after all, time barely crawls
Unoccupied, between each breath it sticks
What did it mean to fly
A tremor in your soul
To resist the dull existence of gravity
What did it mean to you
An early chat with death
To pull your body for a moment from your soul

I drive alone, home from work
And i always think of her
Late at night i call her
But i never say a word
And i can see her squeeze the phone between her chin and shoulder
And i can almost smell her breath faint with a sweet scent of decay
She serves him mashed potatoes
And she serves him peppered steak, with corn
Pulls her dress up over her head
Lets it fall to the floor
And does she ever whisper in his ear all her favorite fruit
And all the most exotic places they are cultivated
And i'd like to take her there, rather than this train
And if i weren't a civil servant, i'd have a place in the colonies
We'd play croquet behind white-washed walls and drink our tea at four
Within intervention's distance of the embassy
The midday air grows thicker with the heat
And drifts towards the line of trees
When negroes blink their eyes, they sink into siesta
And we are rotting like a fruit underneath a rusting roof
We dream our dreams and sing our songs of the fecundity
Of life and love
Of life and love
Of life and love