When we got to Bostonwe knew we d missed a turn.
No one back in traffic school had
told us there are signs that can t be learned.
Geography s too stubborn and people are too clear
so let s go find a road-side motel with a clerk who won t tell.
Days will turn into nightsnights will turn into daysweeksseasonsand years.
We ll stay for years.

Red and white for blood cellsred and white for wine.
They could be the whole damn spectrum if
we d all just let them. Lordit s such a crime...
Working on an inch less waistband in the
strip mall wasteland outside of this town
or clawing at the penthouse kitchen floor for just one smidgen
more
everybody knowseverybody knows that it s in.
The fix is in.

Let s go back to Boston. Forget about the turn.
Atlases and gas station attendants are none of our concern.
We ll forge a little life dear (oh dear) and double down our debts
and I guess it stands to reason that the passing seasons will
slowly dull regrets.
Working on an inch less waistband in the strip mall wasteland
outside of this town
or clawing at the penthouse kitchen floor for just one smidgen
more
everybody knowseverybody knows that it s in.
The fix is in.

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