Empty Graves

I’m a sowing machine
Everything but what she needs
And God she knows just what I mean
I’m a sewing machine
Always stitching things back up
But I’m always looking for that stream
That takes me out under the sun somewhere
Where all love just stretches out for me
And those Army boys drink hate
In the bars their bodies shake
Cause they know they ain’t coming home tonight
Poor mothers know that it’s too late
They just hang out all of the time now
Cause they got all the time it takes
And all the time in the whole universe
Couldn’t fill these empty graves
So just hang out all of that time now
On the clothesline of our fate
Cause we know we ain’t coming home tonight
Poor mothers know that it’s too late
Cause the suburbs they are frozen
And the ghettos they’re in flames
And all the time in the whole universe
Couldn’t fill these empty graves
Or these tables up with laughter
Or these sleepy heads with dreams
Or this tin man's heart with confidence
Or these ghettos with relief
Or these suburbs with release
Or these ghettos with relief
Or these suburbs with release