Petroleum
Album: Homes
By: The Pants
By: The Pants
Duration
3:49
Genres
Lyrics
I knew that I would miss the bay. The greener grass won't meet half way. The sewage still, I fail to keep at an arm's length As I'm trekking through the in-between. Miss bluer skies, but not those pretty eyes. The closeness wasn't even worth your grocery bag of Lies. Hear that crashing sound with pattering. Reminds me of a place I'd rather be. My heroes hand-in-hand with open outer arms. But all I see's through petroleum Over the bluffs, down Palisade. The salty strip, my own enclave. Biannual means memories, like treasure hunting, Bamboo swords, and burning Christmas trees. The soil's breadth and atmosphere collide. Deadhead on this Cessna out of here's how I'll Survive.