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For Mayor in Splitsville

 

Funny what you think of after a collapse

While lying in the dirt

The first thing that comes back

Is never quite what you’d have guessed

And if you could have

You probably would’ve said you’d check

If all your limbs were intact

Still and then try to get out

 

We played house with the

Neighbors in their basement

Sister made me husband

She was older so I did her bidding

I remember once their dad came in

And said, “You think this is bad?

You don’t know the half”

And he laughed

 

It’s funny what things come back

The first things you see

 

How he sort of smiled

Like it’s only a joke, but he was lying

There was something else inside of his eyes

All those secrets people tell to little children

Are warnings that they give them

Like, “Look, I’m unhappy

Please don’t make the same mistake as me”

 

Why are those old worn out jokes

On married life told at toasts

At receptions still?

 

How does it never occur

How often couples get burned

And end uncertain in Splitsville?

 

Funny what you think of in the wreckage

Lying there in the dirt and the dust and the glass

How you’re suddenly somewhere

In the desert, in the night time

And it’s gettin’ close to Christmas

And then her and that movie voice she uses when she reads

“Welcome to the Land of Enchantment” from a highway sign

And it’s late so you take the next exit

 

When that trip ended, we came back

The rent was due, I was jobless

I guess in retrospect, I should’ve sensed decay

Then that day, how you said

“I just don’t know” and I promised

We’d rearrange things

Ro fix the mess I’d made here

 

But I guess in the end

We just moved furniture around

But I guess in the end

We just moved furniture around

But I guess in the end

We just moved furniture around

But I guess in the end

 

It sort of feels like every day it’s harder

To stay happy where you are

There are all these ways to look through the fence

Into your neighbor’s yard

 

Why even risk it?

It’s safer to stay distant

When it’s so hard now to just be content

Because there’s always something else

 

Now I’m proposing my own toast

Composing my own joke for those married men

Maybe I’m miserable

I’d rather run for mayor in Splitsville

Than suffer your jokes again