this place is quicksand
don't you ever come back
I guess you knew what's good for you
you got out before you sank
this place is quicksand
you look after yourself
and you'll see soon I'll get out too
either there or somewhere else
hey ho tornado Joe
rip through me again
I miss the mess in our old van
I miss your bag of pens
hey ho tornado Joe
I propose a toast to you and me
and rock and you you've got to blow out
towards the coast there's so much I still don't know
about this far left coast
but my short time here for sure has shown
it ain't no mecca no paradise
the ocean's great and the weather's nice
but isolation is everywhere
and you can't escape it by coming here
because anxiety can hitch a ride on planes
and loneliness travels from state to state
all my stuff is in bags and crates
but I can't escape my baggage brains oh
this place is quicksand.