Waxman - Ty Segall

The Waxman’s moving his shoulders

He walks down reading the paper

But the tar sticks, top of the feet

Like a neighbor, he yells in the street

And he’s a dead palm, still on the beach

But his hair’s gone, a bottle of bleach

In the water, the news was printed on his arm all along

Sliding through the open air

Hands are placed into the dirt

Feeling 'round for something

He is always there

I’m getting closer, making my way to him

Older, I’m much too young for him

He can take my skin and replace

The wax so he won’t melt on down

I’ll give him all of my feelings

If I’m dead now, it was worth seeing

If he would let me live inside his mind for a while

I’m sliding through the open air

My hands are placed into the dirt

I’m feeling 'round for something

I am always there

I’m sliding through the open air

My hands are placed into the dirt

Feeling 'round for something

I am always there

I am always there

I am always there

I am always there