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Kind Of Like Spitting

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Kind Of Like Spitting

Song For Annie's Harmonica

Slid right through the turnstile and off the loft we went
We were taken in by strangers, and called about by coil and kin
Oh, concentrate on as far back as you can go
When we would put a bullet in its belfry, to prove it's all a hoax
So what we don't impress the fireworks with the strumming of our smiles
But you can look up how high heaven is, and try to count the miles
Keeps you busy for a while

Says the cradle to the kick drum, that life begins again
Smoke butts like spent bullets, street sweeper's home to sleep again
And when he put his arms around me, his hoodie smelled like gasoline
So here's to all lost fragrances, to a future with some balance to a future without Judgement, to a future with my family

To a future without anger, to a fate of more than damaged fits, to a future worth remembering.