In the ballroom at the gas station on Friday night again there is a party
An ancient Beamer shines brown light from its headlamps,
and through the window from speakers beat mind-numbing lines,
where the assholes and the motherfuckers have begun their rave.
But the earth tears toward itself
it still canít attain flight
this hilly land,
it wonít allow you a runway to take off
but despite that, you still try
Itís still waiting even if you donít know youíre waiting
living day to day
Itís still waiting even if you donít know what youíre waiting for
trying to hold it all together
Itís still hope too, whether things happen as planned
or something unexpected snips your string
Hope sees when thereís no longer any hope
a corpse candle lighting up the way.
With what power has this couple lodged in their backyard pulled this wagon many years?
Thereís no other explanation for it but pure love.
Youíve got to pull the carton of vodka into the cold Finnish warming hut quickly
and spread tax-free mortar until love comes.