Squeaky swings and tall grass
The longest shadows ever cast
The water's warm and children swim
And we frolicked about in our summer skin

I don't recall a single care
Just greenery and humid air
Then Labor day came and went
And we shed what was left of our summer skin

On the night you left I came over
And we peeled the freckles from our shoulders
Our brand new coats so flushed and pink
And I knew your heart I couldn't win
Cause the seasons change was a conduit
And we left our love in our summer skin

The main attraction, distraction
got ya number than number than numb
Empty ya pockets son, they got you thinkin that
What ya need is what they sellin
Make you think that buyin is rebellin'
From the theaters to malls on every shore
The thin line between entertainment and war
The frontline is everywhere, there be no shelter here
Spielberg the nightmare works so push it far
Amistad was a whip, the truth feathered and tarred
Memories erased and burned and scarred
Trade in ya history for a VCR

Cinema, simulated life, ill drama
Fourth reich culture, Americana
Chained to the dream they got ya searchin for
The thin line between entertainment and war

There'll be no shelter here!
The frontline is everywhere
There'll be no shelter here!
The frontline is everywhere
There'll be no shelter here!
The frontline is everywhere
There'll be no shelter here!
The frontline is everywhere

Hospitals not profit full
The market bull's got pockets full
To advertise some hip disguise
View the world from American eyes
Tha poor adore keep feeding for more
Tha thin line between entertainment and war
They fix the need, develop the taste
Buy their products or get laid to waste
Coca-Cola is back in the veins of Saigon
And Rambo too, he's got a dope pair of Nikes on
Godzilla pure mother fuckin filler
Get your eyes off the real killer

Cinema, simulated life, ill drama
Fourth reich culture, Americana
Chained to the dream they got you searchin for
Tha thin line between entertainment and war

There'll be no shelter here!
The frontline is everywhere
There'll be no shelter here!
The frontline is everywhere
There'll be no shelter here!
The frontline is everywhere
There'll be no shelter here!
The frontline is everywhere

American eyes, American eyes
View the world from American eyes
Bury the past, rob us blind
And leave nothin behind

American eyes, American eyes
View the world from American eyes
Bury the past, rob us blind
And leave nothin behind

Just stare!
Just stare!
Just stare!
Just stare!

Relive the nightmare!

I guess things were always quiet
around Putnam County
kind of shy and sleepy as it clung to the skirts
of the 2-lane, that was stretched out like an
asphalt dance floor where all the oldtimers would
hunker down in bib jeans and store bought boots
lyin' about their lives and the places that they'd been
suckin' on Coca Colas and be spittin' Days Work
they's be suckin' on Coca Colas
and be spittin' Day's Work
until the moon was a stray dog on the ridge and
the taverns would be swollen until the naked eye
of 2am, and the Stratocaster guitars slung over
Burgermeister beer guts, and the swizzle stick legs
jacknifed over naugahyde stools and the
witch hazel spread out over the linoleum floors,
the pedal pushers stretched out over midriff bulge
and the coiffed brunette curls over Maybelline eyes
wearing Prince Machiavelli, Estee Lauder,
smells so sweet
I elbowed up at the counter with mixed feelings
over mixed drinks
and Bubba and the Roadmasters moaned in pool hall
concentration as they knit their brows to
cover the entire Hank Williams Song Book
and the old National register was singing to the
tune of $57.57
until last call, one last game of 8 ball
and Berneice would be putting the chairs on the tables,
someone come in say "Hey man, anyone got
any Jumper Cables, is that a 6 or a 12 volt?"
and all the studs in town would toss 'em down
and claim to fame as they stomped their feet
boasting about being able to get more ass
than a toilet seat.
And the GMCs and the Straight 8 Fords
were coughing and wheezing and they
perculated as they tossed the gravel
underneath the fenders to weave home
a wet slick anaconda of a two lane
with tire irons and crowbars a rattlin'
with a tool box and a pony saddle
you're grinding gears, shifting into first
yea and that goddam tranny's just getting worse
with the melodies of "see ya later"
and screwdrivers on carburettors
talkin' shop about money to loan
and palominos and strawberry roans
See ya tomorrow, hello to the Mrs.
money to borrow and goodnight kisses
the radio spittin' out Charlie Rich
sure can sing that sonofabitch
and you weave home, weavin' home
leaving the little joint winking in the
dark warm narcotic American night
beneath a pin cushion sky and it's
home to toast and honey, start
up the Ford, your lunch money's there on the
draining board, toilet's runnin' shake the
handle, telephone's ringin' it's Mrs Randal
where the hell are my goddam sandals
and the porcelain poodles and the glass swans
staring down from the knick knack shelf
with the parent permission slips for the
kids' field trips
pair of Muckalucks scraping across
the shag carpet
and the impending squint of
first light, that lurked behind
a weeping marquee in downtown Putnam
and would be pullin' up any minute now
just like a bastard amber
Velveeta yellow cab on a rainy corner
and be blowin' its horn, in every window
in town.