<Lambchop> page <I Hope You're Sitting Down> album page |
Or Thousands Of PiecesThere may be richness and purityStillness, obscenity this Tuesday night In a touch of openness, carelessness, vulgarity, even spite And his boots lay on the carpet beside his socks And her blouse was on the bedpost, the drink is on the rocks The hick's perspiration, imagination, insinuation, salvation and moonlight As their eyes met almost cautiously, carefully, caressingly as if they might In her hands she holds the object of her desire Through his fingers run the cradle of our civilization It's such promises of senselessness, emotionless defensiveness the two awoke To the sound of lawns mowing, trees mowing, he's knowing she's going and they never spoke He takes the ribbon from her hair and makes a knot She reaches for her purse and then she stops Intellectually this economy is under their advisement It's just real sweat and not some TV sets The owner of the advertisements, don't abuse it It's all in your head Things like [?] And that big red freshness Or deviling your pleasures Or thousands of prices Or thousands of prices Or thousands of prices |