The Mountain Goats. Faultlines. Zeneszám

down here where the heat's so fine
i'll drink to your heath and you drink to mine
as we try to make the money we scored out in vegas
hold out for a while.
we drink, vodka from russia
we get our chocolates from belgium
we have our strawberriest flown in from england.
yeah but none of the money we spend
seems to do us much good in the end.
i've got a cracked engine block, both of us do.
yeah the house and the jewels, the italian race car
they don't make us feel better about who we are.
i've got termites in the framework, so do you.

down here where the watermelon grows so sweet
where i worship the ground underneith of your feet,
we are experts in the art of frivilous spending.
and it's gone on like this, for 3 years i guess
and we're drunk all the time and our lives are a mess.
and the deathless love we swore to protect with our bodies
is stumbling across its bleak ending.
but none of the rage in our eyes
seems to finish it off where it lies.
i got sugar in the fuel lines, both of us do.
yeah the fights and the lies that we both love to tell
fail to send our love to it's reward down in hell
i got pudding for a backbone, so do you!
la la la la.
hey hey!