Customer’s Throat
Robert Pollard
Reverend sings, I feel like crying
Pimped and all alone
Every time I fake religion
Fingers around my throat
Stampede of the old steel workers
Pounding on my bones
Unaffected, jerky like
I'm walking out and home
Good son of the sunken anchor
Help me find my home
Oh son, don't run
Endless summers, feel them over
I'll be only nine
Out and take you home an alien
That would be just fine
Oh baby you wanna get...