David F. Bello - Dirt / The Birds lyrics

Call me up on a hot summer evening Maybe I'll answer your letters Call me up on a hot summer spring Maybe I'll answer your letters Driving a bus in Ontario And cutting hair in the back For dead drifters and dead school boys For fifty cents and a cigarette or some meth Cooking dust in your mamas oven Breakin' bones at minimum wages Mangled wires sit in a clump on the floor Answer the door for the customer Staying up late later than I should I like destroying things just because they're good Wish you'd meet me at school so I don't have to go home I'm scared of my bed and the voice in my room It talks from the foot of my bed in the night I wish it would go when I turn out the light But it stays I wish you would kiss me on the lids of my eyes Because as long as they're closed I can ignore the size Of the cyst that is growing on your right cheek I'll heal you with rocks from our hidden creek Where we stay Maybe the sun hates you enough to explode And k** all the other women I've never met You're jealous and green with an envious load That twelve o'clock sees when watches are set But don't stay Sinners don't wake from the naps that they take They keep dreaming and dreaming until it's all fake Cultures burn up in vernacular stews And obsolescence grows in what you don't use Anymore Swallow the empties to remove any claim So no one can name any names that can name The sounds that you heard when you were twelve or fourteen That disappeared and are Extinct