Jets To Brazil
Crown of the Valley
We are the high street service trays coming to take you away
Pasadena '68, with speed on your breakfast plate
Aunt cancer calls them happy pills
They keep her calm and cool until he leaves
The moccasin skin obsession leather thigh
White tennis skirt so high
The eyes of nine are new and kind when the hair's not gray, it's white
And grandpa burns an ascot noose
Can't tie the tassels on his shoes, leave me
Oh god, stop tearing off the roof
Of my experimental bathroom
It's the only thing that's halfway mine
And not for your prying or lying eyes
These are the red-eyed politics, the cocktail revisionists
War room rules, no wives or kids, hear men sing the boy in them
The hedge casts heroes late across the lawn, the valley hunt militia men all gone
Thought we had the lock in '54, now the maid owns the house next door, what's more
Swims in the pool she used to clean
Our new king looks like a queen
Leave me
The empire's melting like ice cream
On the altar of the sun
This skin we've stretched for centuries
It's faded, it's fraying, it's meaningless to me