Texty: Kristin Hersh. Gut Pageant.

That fine fever brought us here, lambasted eyeballs
When we kiss the dirt, the orchids laugh

What a gut pageant, we could play for hours
What a gut pageant, meat for the flowers

You break out of a paper bag and wake up on the street
Just kidding, you don't have to go
I asked him, "Why the grass is blue and stray boys don't go home?"
"Why four a.m.'s so screwy?"
He says, "Sleep through it"

What a gut pageant, we could play for hours
What a gut pageant, meat for the flowers

Not too special not too strange just the way I like them
You find an empty promise and stick by it
Not too pretty, not too sweet, just the way I like you
When you kiss the dirt, the orchids laugh harder than me

Tell me another one, I could sit for hours
When anyone laughs, I know I'm a coward
What a gut pageant, we could play for hours
When we kiss the dirt, the orchids laugh harder than me