The Northern Years

Bones in the cornfield
I'm tired of the northern years
But they're sweet
They take the old roads
And they shake your hand each time you leave

But I'm gonna change your mind
You've got to move your mouth like I do
Promise the world you're fine
Your car's under fifteen feet of snow
The longer you wait the more it grows

And the ground is dead and white
As you smoke in the street at night
And it blows through the porch swing
And it steams your face each time you breathe

But I'm gonna change your mind
You've got to move your mouth like I do
Promise the world you're fine
You buried your roots so deep they're seed
The longer you stay the more you need