Touch the Gun

Ain't no god on a greyhound bus

Just you and other folks

And the broken dreams

And the crazy schemes

Sitting in a dirty seat

With a coke stained tambourine

And it's amazing

What you’ll do for free


Another day has come undone

All you want to is touch the gun

Paint up nice, have some fun

All you want to is touch the gun


Stop at every little shack

Have a bite and spit it out

Because you can't decide

If the taste is right

You know roses drown in wine

Could be the love or maybe a sign

Or even something else

That you'll never find


Cut the ribbon, come undone

All you want to is touch the gun

Chase the saints, chase that sun

All you want to is touch the gun


ALL THE LIGHTS

Watch them linger, watch them fade

But they don’t ever really go away

And they look into your eyes so dark

Hoping desperately for a little spark

Throw a card, play a game

Too close dances with another name

And the touch might get too close too soon

You don't know what you will or will not do

All the lights, all the lights

All the lights

That shine so bright

All the nobodies and stars

All just fireflies in a mason’s jar

Watch them bash and bang against the glass

You don't know when or if you will let them out

CHICAGO

I don’t want to be alone

Just me, your pillow, and my phone

Refreshing the screen and wondering if you’re coming home

Or the staying out there with that side-eyed thrower from Chicago

I don’t want to be alone

The sink is stopped up and the house is too damned cold

But you’ve got too much hair and you forgot to close the door

And that yard sale record you used to play

That old Cure song about falling in love on Friday

And you played it and played it and played it and played it and played and played it

And then it was Friday and you’re in love

cocktail queen

Look what just walked in, it’s a honkey-tonk dream

Well, not some loud mouthed birdie that gets to me

Don’t try and make it your business

Little cocktail queen

If I give her a kiss or a shiny ring

If I tell her she’s the reason God lets me sing

Don’t try and make it your business

Little cocktail queen

Well I know your drunk so don’t make a scene

Because I’m walking out of here with this pretty sweet thing

don’t try and make it your business

little cocktail que

GOLD

I remembered a thing you did

down on Georgia street,

You picked a dandelion up,

and ate it in front of me

So long ago, it might as well be gold

So long ago, it might as well be gold

The wings of the honeybees

Shined there in your teeth

You made an alter on a tablecloth

I spread beneath your feet

So long ago, it might as well be gold

So long ago, it might as well be gold

I traded you my mothers ring for

flowers you picked for me

they were two weeks dead, thorns and thistles

but smelled so sweet to me

So long ago, it might as well be gold

So long ago, it might as well be gold