I want my records back
And that motorcycle gas tank
That I, spraypainted black
The owls have been talking to me
But I'm sworn to secrecy

I woke up in
A burnt out basement
Sleeping with
Metal hands
In a spirit ditch

The moon it will rise with such
Horse laughter
It's dragging pianos to the ocean
If I had a home
You'd know it'd be
In a slide trombone

I woke up in
A burnt out basement
Sleeping with
Metal hands
In a spirit ditch

I woke up in
A burnt out basement
Sleeping with
Metal hands
In a spirit ditch