Sometimes the light sits just right
It leans up against my windowsill
Smokes thick red cigarettes
And drools dark clouds of smoke down the doorway
Drips onto the floorboards
Seeps into the carpet and up the legs of my bed
People, they sit on their porches
Laughing, telling stories, and drinking bread
And on a good warm day
You can fly across town and pull fruit from the sky
And drown yourself in the river
The girls here, they're so pretty I just start talking
Some days I think about leaving
Just because