Eighteen

Eighteen

A phone booth in the snow, in a freezing place
Icy fingers grab my feet, cover them in lace
Cold receiver in my hand, a message even colder
Steams the windows with its heat, from your dearest darling daughter

Gentle boy from Georgia, Queensbury rules
Up against the wall, surrounded by fools
A tiny twenty two bullet just missed his head
Traced the hole with magic marker, that said “Daivid is dead”

CHORUS: Sailing down a river of sticks
So sad weary, and sick
Red sky, deliver delight
Lead us on, lead us on lead us into the light

Gentle girls but stupid, Detroit Street Purple Gang
December in East Denver when the doorbell rang
Broke and bored, no dope, no courage, Looking for your room
You talked about the weather, and I sat in the gloom

BRIDGE: Were there guns were there drugs, were there even police?
Yes yes, all of these and more, to say the least
Jail, bail, paranoia, judges, soldiers, witches
Burger King Whoppers and tattoos….. in the kitchen
CHORUS

Why say anything? I know what you’re thinking
It doesn’t matter if it’s fiction, if it’s blinking tears or winking
It’s just a memory miser spending her last dime
To gaze into a mirror held by the hand of time

BRIDGE
It’s a miracle I’m here to tell, How I saved myself from hell
Some say good sense, some say luck,
I’d say when trouble came I learned to duck
Godsend, guardian angel, we’ll just have to see
But I saw the devil, and he looked right through me

CHORUS: Sailing down a river of sticks
My soul is weary and sin sick
Red sky, deliver delight
Lead me on, lead me on, lead me into the light