Fax Machine

Everyone's called off the searches
Faces that nobody knows
The devil is hiding in churches

The sun has burned my eyes
Got me making that face again
I'm driving my dented car in donuts
Listening to that same old mixtape, my friend

The one that starts and ends
With odds and ends and a dumb dance song
As a troubled name with a subtle way
Is saying that she thinks that I'm handsome

As shuttles crash and buildings fall
And diseases fly on airplanes
I wonder where the romance has gone
Peter, Dan, and Tom got us by the purse strings

I want to build you a house
In the country, with the son of Michael Landon
But I want to protect my couch
And my collection of rusty handguns

It's as tough as nails, as tough as tigers
As tough as tricky shots
But I believe the dreams of my father
It's the only dreams that I've got

I've never seen the top
Give me a good, solid lay of the land
But I guess a guess is just a guess
And the first step to finding the facts at hand

I hate the bleeding hearts and hard-heads
As much as the nervous man hates the taste of a stutter
You know what they say: in the land of the blind
The man with one eye's on every tabloid cover

It's not a case of me vs. the others
1,000 monkeys vs. man
Before the Lord lays me down to sleep
I pray that you'll understand

I need my room to breathe
My own private patch of dirt
Where I can raise my sheep and make my beats
And teach my kids to curse

I need a sandwich and a hammock
But not a butler or a reporter
Just a couple good folk to watch my back
But never watch over my shoulder

It's as pretty as a picture
And it stands alone without a frame
That's why it sits all silent inside my wallet
Waiting for you to see my dreams