Wet shoes, wet socks, cold feet are dripping
Sweetly on the carpet
The wary bear's skin of my poaching father's business trip
Homicide in the kodiak mountains in mid-july
And i am still what we used to be
And what we are is a shirttail caught in the barbs of a fence
Of your parents yard
Down the road a half a block away in a pit bull cage
Is what we were
Shoebox of magazines for easy reading
I don't fit well in this new skin suit
Please act like we aren't junk and sold for scraps
To live with thieving wives and poltergeists
Oak heirlooms in the corner attract new lies
Peter may have a lot to say
Before he unlocks the gates
And grants to you
Eternal, god-given child's play
I don't fit well in this new skin suit
Please act like we aren't junk and sold for scraps
To live with thieving wives and poltergeists
Oak heirlooms in the corner attract new lies