It’s an instant action day, ill equipped for anything you
say
With all my ditches rearranged, ain’t it beautiful with
plows and flange?
And Lometa’s running figure eights in seven flat and
stabbing for my soul
And there’s little time left to create, all pissed away
with papers, mail and phones

And in strychnine, breathless ways, there are reasons

here for you to know
In an ashtray kind of way, you are useful and a little
stained
And forgiveness comes in smaller crates, I’m undeserving
of these things I know
But the sun has set on something great, all pissed away
with papers, mail and phones