Speaking of the revolution
Where were you last night
It can run like a reel, over and over
But I'll never get it right
You said cursing is a form of caring
So I know I'm deeply loved
Cold sober you cut the rope
With a blunt butter knife
I'm falling hard from high above
The mornings are cold and dreary
And you’re dressing like a Maoist poster child
It's a wonder that we're here
That we're breathing air at all
Always running, always wild
The traffic it stretches to the horizon
And the accident is up ahead
Some semi jackknifed, took a few with him
Flash the lights, to mourn the dead
Jonah: guitar, voice | Kevin Suggs: pedal steel | Scott: harmonies