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 can’t attain flight
this hilly land,
it won’t allow you a runway to take off
but despite that, you still try

It’s still waiting even if you don’t know you’re waiting
living day to day
It’s still waiting even if you don’t know what you’re waiting for
trying to hold it all together
It’s still hope too, whether things happen as planned
or something unexpected snips your string
Hope sees when there’s 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?
There’s no other explanation for it but pure love.
You’ve got to pull the carton of vodka into the cold Finnish warming hut quickly
and spread tax-free mortar until love comes.