Okay, hey, I'm going outside, you can put the plate back on the shelf.
And its cold, though the snow isn't falling, the neighbor can speak for himself
And the cold, hard, look in your eye is more than a line in the sand.
And the truth gets hard to imagine, the hours get harder to stand.

There's a seasick terminal passenger singing this song to himself,
Till the store-bought soul on his skeleton leaks into somebody else
He's a seesaw caught in a storm, a hurricane after the war.
When he drinks all the blood you can offer, he still wants more.

Lemon plains, and rumbling trains,
Are shaking the ground in our town again
Thought it twice, and kicking the ice,
I got myself turned back around, singing.

Everything's gonna be fine, sure that we'll both be
Okay, hey, I'm backing outside, now just put the plate back on the shelf.
And its cold, though the snow isn't falling, the temperature speaks for itself.
Its a moonlit reason to quit, and nobody answers the phone
So if there's still blood left in your body I'll come back home.