I wish you'd just ask me about mercury,
so I could answer truthfully.
Singing startles the night and the night is over.
South of the South Dakota border.
The moon is hunting you, and I'm hunting you too.
It's not as though you can go to heaven at night.
It's not as though you can go in the daylight.
It's not as though anything will be all right, "all right."
So why do you stay alive when you're left to die?
I swear I never tried to try;
never tried to run down the waterfall to watch you fall.