The Mortal Groove

It's half price off on last year's models
There's a geeseful sky and roads of potholes
The town is lean and getting leaner
There is a rank and file demeanor
Countless souls in unkind places
Wearing fixed and angry faces
I tell myself I don't belong
But I am a ghost in this prayer gone wrong...

There's a new restaurant and a new coffee shop
It seems this street is looking up
The new sign says there's "No Smoking"
"No Shirt, No Service" and "Spanish Spoken"

This town was built by steel blue collars
It now competes for the tourist dollars
Love may make the world go round
But like gravity here we're still money bound...

There's talk show hosts and wartime markers
Ways of thinking that force the darkness
Bus stations have sad reputations
Coin laundry pawnshop conversations
Each time this year I hit this mood
It's cabin fever or the mortal groove
Before the spring before winter's done
When something's lost or just hasn't come...