(J F Thom)
Out here, cable cuts, repeatedly
As we watch our TV shows
No, I don't want your mystery
I can barely stand my own

As I crash
Into my beautiful yesterday
This gun could be for real
But I don't want to be alone
As I sit here in this underground
Pink velvet of nothingness
Exchanging points of view
With myself and drunkenness
As I sit here with these dusting jewels of indecisiveness
This gun could be for real
This gun should be for real
I just cut you off
Yeah, I pretty much cut you short
But the joke's on me again and again
As I find religion boxed in
And you looked pretty
In your Sunday clothes
So pretty I almost cried
Then I saw you walk between the stones
With your Blue-green Jesus eyes
As I sit here in this underground
Pink velvet of nothingness
Exchanging points of view
With myself and drunkenness
As I sit here with these dusting jewels of indecisiveness
This gun could be for real
This gun should be for real
I play my flute
In a universal key
It's easy
And someday I'll teach you to play
As I sit here in this underground
Pink velvet of nothingness
Exchanging points of view
With myself and drunkenness
As I sit here with these dusting jewels of indecisiveness
This gun could be for real
This gun should be for real
As I sit here in this underground
Pink velvet of nothingness
Exchanging points of view
With myself and drunkenness
As I sit here with these dusting jewels of indecisiveness
This gun could be for real
This gun is for real