New England

Go take your million teeth
And rip 'em from my little mouth
I’m gonna buy me a golden set
When I buy my golden house
You wonder why I stare sometimes
But you’re looking like a dream
Like a Parisien model
From a high-end filthy magazine
If Fridays are meant for funerals
Then Sunday’s meant for feeling thin
You lay me out like Roman numerals
Printed on your prison skin
Drowning in your oil
But it keeps my hair looking slick
I often sit and wonder
Which bad side of me you’re gonna pick
I love it when you call
My heart sinks into the sand
Your words flow like golden peaches
Dripping from a can
If I could see right through it all
My eyes would never mend
I’d die alone out in New England
Cold wind my only friend
Cold wind
No need for a letterbox
Living at no fixed address
Plain shirts and polka-dot socks
Are on my death row last request
'Cause when the world turns over
I’m gonna go out looking neat
Riding fine, the Hurstbridge line
Won’t you sit right down and take your seat?
I love it when you call
My heart sinks into the sand
Your words flow like golden peaches
Dripping from a can
If I could see right through it all
My eyes would never mend
I’d die alone out in New England
Cold wind my only friend
Cold wind
I love it when you call
My heart goes sinking into the sand
Your words flow like golden peaches
Dripping from a can
If I could see right through it all
My eyes would never mend
I’d die alone out in New England
Cold wind my only friend
Cold wind