(alexander) Luther's windows are littered with nothing A crystal, a picture, a dead potted sage A dusty white curtain, the nose prints of a dog A shot gla** collection from his truck driving days Luther's bedroom is as hot as an oven With air that's as stale as old forgotten bread In a cage on the dresser there's a parrot that talks But her name over and over is all that it says Turn your back to the sun You see only shadows Look beneath the stars You see only night Like a homesick sailor Luther's standing in the window Watching the world floating by him tonight Luther's hands once held a chain With keys to a home and a blue chevrolet Now he lives with his mother, steals all her liquor And chain smokes and stares at the ceiling for days Turn your back to the sun You see only shadows Look beneath the stars You see only night Like a homesick sailor Luther's standing in the window Watching the world floating by him tonight Luther's sitting by himself on the sofa With his head bowed down but his eyes are open wide Having a one man revival with an electronic bible Listening to the parade going by And the ba** drum is pounding, the trumpets are bleating And he's reading a verse from st. john A trickle of light seeps through the blind Luther pulls down the shade until he makes up his mind Well, turn your back to the sun You see only shadows Look beneath the stars You see only night Like a homesick sailor Luther's standing in the window Watching the world floating by him tonight It's floating by him tonight