Texty: Mountain Goats, The. Distant Stations.

i found an old rug

in the dry dirt outside

the door of my hotel room

it was a triangle with soft rounded edges

and a split down the middle of one corner

it was darker than english moss

green like the soft frills of a peacock\'s plum

i waited for you

but i never told you where i was

it was you who taught me how

to write these kind of equations

i waited on the steps for you

and i hid in the bushes

whenever a car pulled into the parking lot

you taught me how to listen to these

distant stations

distant stations



i saw the sky break

i threw a rock at a crow

who was playing in the mulch

of the rose bushes by the motel office

missed him by a good yard

or two

i sang old songs from nowhere

los angles

albuquerque

said a small prayer for the poor

and the naked and the hungry

and i prayed real hard for you

i waited for you

but i never told you where i was

it was you who taught me how

to write these kind of equations

i waited on the steps for you

and i hid in the bushes

whenever a car pulled into the parking lot

you taught me how to listen to these

distant stations

distant stations