|
The volunteers, they come for your prayers |
|
And some souvenirs |
|
With ivory skin and boycott lessons |
|
Year after year |
|
Well I'm tracing your face up in the space |
|
Of the bottom bunk, oh |
|
CordovaWhere |
|
I cried and |
|
I criedI knew |
|
I was trading on things that |
|
I didn't have |
|
The things that |
|
I didn't have |
|
Now you come to me |
|
With revolution's infidelity |
|
With blacklisted friends and |
|
Tupperware kin |
|
And your big history |
|
Well I'm tracing your face up in the space |
|
Of the bottom bunk, oh |
|
CordovaWhere |
|
I cried and |
|
I criedI knew |
|
I was trading on things that |
|
I didn't have |
|
The things that |
|
I didn't have |
|
I memorize the lullabies of dwindling lives |
|
The lay of the land, the touch of each hand |
|
We lose by and by |
|
I'm tracing your face up in the space |
|
Of the bottom bunk, oh |
|
CordovaWhere |
|
I cried and |
|
I criedI knew |
|
I was trading on things that |
|
I didn't have |
|
The things that |
|
I didn't have |