mad creek

grit and twang and corrugated tin walls
the creek will swallow the barn some crimson colored fall
she's scared of bridges and terrified of dolls
but that doesn't mean a thing up here

where the clouds float past and the night is clear

sometimes virtue is a signal in a telephone wire
and that thing you promised overrides desire
in dreams that old house becomes your effigy on fire
but that doesn't mean a thing up here

where the clouds float past and the night is clear

so hit the tremolo bar and forget why you came
forget all those roads and forget all those names
forget the moments that made you feel ashamed
because none of that means a thing up here

where the clouds float past and the night is clear