Lunch - Shivaree

It’s not black enough to see where any white is

So I’ll wait another hour for you and your designer jeans

And I remember you as heartless as a freeway

And I wonder if the time will make your eyes like angelynes

Will you shuffle to your seat, greasy head and naked feet?

And your expensive hands are swinging all your Beverly keys

The latest colors on your lip, there’s a satchel at your hips

And it’s all full of broken Barbie dolls and disassembled dreams

If you don’t want for them to hate you because you’re beautiful

How can you want them all to love you for the same thing?

For the same thing

You went and left your license on the car seat

You had a couple drinks with him and then you changed your name

And then he handed you a tambourine and whistled

No matter what they call you by, the meaning stays the same

And now your shotgun on the floor, your window’s just a door

Riding backward 'cross state lines in high heels that they made you wear

Your steamers in the trunk, it’s all loaded up with junk

Like lead and blood and dust and hair and stuff to kill the sting

You don’t want for them to hate you because you’re beautiful

How can you want them all to love you for the same thing?

For the same thing

Well your shotgun on the floor, your window’s just a door

Riding backward 'cross state lines in high heels that they made you wear

Your steamers in the trunk, it’s all loaded up with junk

Like lead and blood and dust and hair and stuff to kill the sting

You don’t want for them to hate you because you’re beautiful

How can you want them all to love you for the same thing?

For the same thing