Bixby - Intellectual

[Verse 1]

You lay your belly on the stone

You put your face down in the water

You wore my eyes, you wore your grandfather's sweatshirt

You wore that winter light as if it were a hood

You hung your head out like a dog

You drove the heat from me, you hollered

I turned the cliff, I turned my cold collar upward

You turned your lips to see your teeth bared to the wind

But send no call to cover me

No postman, and no pale grey gull

No road to the bridge above Bixby

In our aimlessness, we are faded

In our nights, man, we are all our own

And January is a joke

January is a fever

Your feet were cold, your faith could not be recovered

You bought me for a square of chocolate and a poem

I broke the turnstile and the phone

I broke the mouth of copper wire

I ate the basin with its clandestine orchard

I took your face in both my hands and watched it fall

But send no call to cover me

No postman, and no pale grey gull

No road to the bridge above Bixby

In our aimlessness, we are faded

In our nights, man, we are all our own

And we have both been castaways

But you're not sinking in these shallows

I am not letting go, and I do not agree to follow you down

You bear that heavy load; I am prepared to hear it now

But send no call to comfort me

Come quiet, or come not at all

By the road to the bridge above Bixby

On the face of it nothing's fated

But in the nights, man, we are right where we belong