I met a man with a lumber yard tan
and the sun was to his back but he was open like a bottle cap
and I told him I was twenty six and he looked at me
like a crucifix, like I was hangin’ from my arms
then the wind took me away and I wish I told him
I wish I’d stayed
that there was something ‘tween the lines
and I can’t help but look back, I got time to kill
an iron will, but baby I can’t back track
and each letter I write ends up an offering to the night
and as I turned away I could feel his eyes cover in lies
he told through his own teeth and when I told him I was twenty six
you know he looked at me like a crucifix
like I was bleeding out my charms and if there ain’t know he
well then I’ll race you there, I’ll race you there
my suitcase in hand
my suitcase in hand