From the recording The Late Great Soul Shake
Lyrics
That old black rusty gate swings open and closes up behind you
like a screeching halt to the chains that bind you.
And I wait out front in a beat up truck with my plaid shirt on and a guilty smile like a convict.
I’ll shave my head babe, and you cut your bangs and we’ll steal away in the night
leaving others behind to pick up the pieces of us that didn’t make it to the car.
Now I’m scared and lonely as hell but who isn’t?
I ain’t afraid to be it, but I’m too terrified to show it.
and I see it in your eyes like a long lost sister and I crave it in my soul that I have what you’ve been missing
One man’s trash is another man’s treasure
One man’s pleasure is another man’s pain
One man stands while another man runs
One man’s bullet is another man’s gun
One man’s bullet is another man’s gun
Well we both know for all we tried we would fail.
Two days into it crossing the border by the Winslow County Jail, we’d realize that all we had wanted and all we had dreamed were just fragments and hopes and big bets and schemes and ways to cope with the struggling reality of life in the city
I should just deny it but no you’ve never looked so pretty.
I could sit here and analyze it over and over but we both knows that it’s wrong and destructive.
But sometimes I’d rather say “fuck it” and go than spend one more minute on the bucket wondering what would happen if I shaved my head and you cut your bangs and we slipped away in the night.
One man’s trash is another man’s treasure
One man’s pleasure is another man’s pain
One man stands while another man runs
One man’s bullet is another man’s gun
One man’s bullet is another man’s gun
I hear Nashville is nice this time of year. We could start writing and make a career become something from nothing and shoot to the top of the charts as a team like an old movie or dream where the heroes are us and against all odds and barks we step up to the plate and knock it out of the park. Now wouldn’t that be great?
Every night now I sit and wait in a beat up truck outside your apartment struggling with thoughts of what to do.
Every now and then I hear that old black gate screech open and I look up excited with knots in my stomach and i hope to god you’re running in your flannel shirt and jeans or maybe a skirt dangling just past your knees