Madagascar

歌詞

A sad poet with An historical moustache Reading thrift store novelettes Very white trash His conscience Is losing consciousness She lets fall, the fabled stocking He thinks he's making love But he's just talking And she doesn't know what, all she's after Wishes she could send her troubles to Madagascar Sunday dinners With a Christian Scientist God and pretty women Listed on his hit list Grinding out conversations At the gin mills Feels like the hero of a B-movie thrill She lets fall, the fabled stocking... In the middle of his middle aged crises The tears come down from Capricorn to Pisces Woman listen to your confessions Your pain is now a national obsession Dropping casualties like flies This generation is sensually paralyzed In the back room someone's lit A clove cigarette A poker-faced boy Trying so hard to forget The walls are white washed His mouth is dry as death And his conscience Is losing consciousness She lets fall, the fabled stocking...