Lyrics to Salt Thrower Off A Truck
When February came it came straight for New York
Any colder, they said, and we’ll be skating to work
Salt throwers were taming the sidewalks with haste
Til the whole of the city was
Seasoned to taste
The world was a yawn fingerprinted by night
Pro couples out running the leaves into kites
And out jumped the soul from his too-little chest
Was kited away along with the rest
Live by design, til you resign
If anyone asks, I love my city
Oh where will ya take me for dinner and sex?
The romance of somewhere where trains go direct?
I live pretty close to a view of the stars
But it’s not in my nature to look through the bars
My friend
You’re major
You’re king of the world
You might as well feel it
You might as well take all the
Chips that you can
They’re the chips that you earned
And they’re ain’t no forever
Where living’s concerned
When I’m at the door of whatever it is
If it’s nothing romantic or nothing to miss
I’ll hope that I lived like those salt thrower heads
Drove over the treasury and helping the next
Live by design, til you resign
If anyone asks, I love my city
Old was a man who attended his patch
Offending next door with the lock on the latch
He felt too deeply, too often, too long
And now he’ll feel nothing forever
Any colder, they said, and we’ll be skating to work
Salt throwers were taming the sidewalks with haste
Til the whole of the city was
Seasoned to taste
The world was a yawn fingerprinted by night
Pro couples out running the leaves into kites
And out jumped the soul from his too-little chest
Was kited away along with the rest
Live by design, til you resign
If anyone asks, I love my city
Oh where will ya take me for dinner and sex?
The romance of somewhere where trains go direct?
I live pretty close to a view of the stars
But it’s not in my nature to look through the bars
My friend
You’re major
You’re king of the world
You might as well feel it
You might as well take all the
Chips that you can
They’re the chips that you earned
And they’re ain’t no forever
Where living’s concerned
When I’m at the door of whatever it is
If it’s nothing romantic or nothing to miss
I’ll hope that I lived like those salt thrower heads
Drove over the treasury and helping the next
Live by design, til you resign
If anyone asks, I love my city
Old was a man who attended his patch
Offending next door with the lock on the latch
He felt too deeply, too often, too long
And now he’ll feel nothing forever