Count Us In - Robert Pollard

We are living, badly breathing

In a time of fine exhibits

We are humping the fire wagon

For a finger in a glass of water

Just to catch our breath

In a time of fine exhibits

Losing words for progress

Gaze upon savior

Your plastic deals and silver walls

Make it happen

You are driving an invisible woman

Home from the grave and she’s hot on the trail

Of your lover but you can’t hit her

You can’t touch her so say goodnight