Make a hole with a gun perpendicular

To the name of this town in a desk-top globe

Exit wound in a foreign nation

Showing the home of the one this was written for

My apartment looks upside down from there

Water spirals the wrong way out the sink

And her voice is a backwards record

It's llike a whirlpool, it never ends



CHORUS

Ana Ng and I are getting old

And we still haven't walked in the glow of each other's majestic presence

Listen Ana hear my words

They're the ones you would think I would say if there was a me for you



All alone at the '64 World's Fair

Eighty dolls yelling "Small girl after all"

Who was at the Dupont Pavilion

Why was the bench still warm? Who had been there?

Or the time when the storm tangled up the wires

To the horn on the pole at the bus depot

And in the back of the edge of hearing

these are the words the voice was repeating:



CHORUS



when I was driving once I saw this painted on a bridge:

"I don't want the world, I just want your half"



They don't need me here, and I know you're there

Where the world goes by like the humid air

And it sticks like a broken record

Everything sticks until it goes away

And the truth is, we don't know anything



CHORUS

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