Unless otherwise noted, all songs written by Kurt Wagner published by Pathetic Hindsight, BMI and administered by Bug Music. I tried to figure these lyrics out. If you think I fucked up, send me an email. Or if you've got any other song lyrics, send them my way. Because You Are the Very Air He Breathes Dust Moves off his arms and chest as the vent window opens in his volkswagen hundreds of impalas and stationwagons idle at the train crossing The puddles that surround him are always made from sweat the open sore on his face reminds him that his blood is simply temporary Chorus: The gas is blowing in the trees One whiff has brought me to my knees at first you practice, practice to yourself you are the very air, you are the very air you are the very air he breathes his head throbs and fills with a big machine bag I must be the richest man to ever stand in line at the bank Chorus Begin She was neat was worried about the holocaust rather uncomfortable but not unusual It was great She said it was easy reading Those busy pictures They made him nervous he had some coffee he looked at the book he stared at her legs she stared at his look What a trip As the shop filled up with strangers some had big black boots some were lost teenagers Gotta go As he placed the book back on the table She said she really likes your house you really like her hair he remembers her face the rest was a blur she asked for some gum he gave it to her Begin Betweemus You can't come to the rescue You can't come to the phone You can't come to the party You can't come to my home Chorus: come on come on come on come on now You can't come to the service You can't come to my aid You can't come to the meeting You can't come on my parade Chorus You can't come for a while You can't come till you're through You can't come for the weekend You can't come though you do Chorus You can't come to the airport You can't come on a bus You can't come in a year You can't come between us Chorus Blame it on the Brunette restless are the few rested in their bunkers taken kind of trash inside their hearts tender is the night tragic are the values that have been entrusted to the back of your mind dissenting government epiphany at rest exactly poistioning no home no food no sex wrestling for hours the choice is not the best blame it on the brunette Powers of the weak rules remain uncertain could you just expose your mouth to me worried by and large harried by convenience statistically exactly like the back of your mind research and radios divide my world at best peanut butter relationships no kids no food no pets adequate understanding ample cigarettes blame it on the brunette bon soir, bon soir it's beach blanket bingo at the end of the day and his eyes are like wading pools and his feet are like clay and he drifts through the crowd they all know who he is they have seen him before he's just a friend of his oh, get out of the car bon soir bon soir now his prey is on the gentle like a bully or a jerk he may call you at home or he may call you at work manipulate your conscience is his own private game you can drive him around till he drives you insane get out of the car bon soir bon soir yadayadayada now it's not like he's stupid he's as smart as a whip as the bottle grows empty he will tighten his grip and he senses that you're weaker it's not even noon every moment with him is a moment too soon get out of the car bon soir bon soir what a penis you are bon soir bon soir The Book I Haven't Read (Fearless) Incorrectly titled "What Else Could it Be?" on the Spanish 7inch the crickets cry tonight here comes your girl the showers fall tonight it's a rainy world the shivers on the spine could be what we had in mind remember all the times we said we could be we should be in love on a windy porch tonight here comes your girl beneath the dull porch light your thoughts will curl as the women and the man go to where the romance ends the voice from up above says we could be we should be in love my disgusting habits end it's a crazy world neither real nor pretend and there's your girl my eyes fall from my head with all the pages read and i'm so glad you said we could be we should be in love breathe deep the clerk smiled as she saw the same nut pick up a personal size grocery basket and head down aisle two. she smiled because periodically this guy would return with a basket full of glade lock and hold room freshener and deodorizer. it's a deodorizer that works on the same principle as a bug bomb. simply push down on the button and it fills the room with a scented fog. the man would buy only about five or six cans at a time. he'd been coming in for about five weeks now. sometimes he would come in twice a week. he seemed like a normal guy. he was kind of balding in his mid thirties wearing a black leather jacket. and he was always so damn dusty something soft about his features. it looked like it was makeup but it was just dust. he paid with a twenty and said thank you and left. when the man returned home he took the glade from the worthless little plastic sack. he placed one on the rug, one on the end table, one on the window sill, one under the TV, and one on the air conditioner. this might seem unusual except for the fact that his entire apartment was just filled with them. every room on every surface. he figured he had about sixty of them in all--each one's nozzle poised at the ready. he sighed and opened a beer. he started to push down the lock and hold buttons on the canisters, slowly filling the room, working his way from the dining room into the den. each room filling with a multiscented fog: desert bloom, evergreen, misty rose, fresh lemon, regular and unscented, pot porrouri, wild oak, petulia, ocean mist, musk, hazel wood, irish nights, sandal wood, rain forest, country kitchen, natural prevention?, orange blossom, indian summer, and holiday candle. calmly he sat on the couch, spilt his beer, and closed his eyes.