There’s a smell here that stands my hairs on end Dog hair in the heater, gas pumps and cedar And jackknives on the nine and seabirds choked on fishing line
Clouds say hush but the chainsaws mush on to Custer and Columbia Salty tentacles shrink in the sun but the red tide is over The mollusks they have won
There’s a smell here of gravel and cigarettes lit When the match made them sweet When the engine turned over and beat up our street Oh, that was the day To remember
I remember because of the fires that leapt From the caves of the things that have not happened yet When I think of it now they smell to me quite sinister
I want to go back and die at the drive in Die before strangers can say I hate the rain I hate the rain