Refrigerator Rick,
kind enough to let the guitar lead the way,
and me, with only pee-tee-ass-a-dee for a band,
lending new words, updating "Turn the Page"
for this week with me rage at the riptide, at Sip
On a full moon, the nation in gloom,
the rehearsal version on the porch
is now lost to the sky, and only the orb
will ever know why o why o why
And after I said, "Well, that will
never sound the same." But it did.
And just Rick had a another sip
of his strange pyrotechnical brew
in his typical melancholy,
man-I-used-to-be-a-rock-star way,
but he's always ready to play
Indoors we were Okay, killed it, actually
But there has already been enough
killing done, out there on HIghway Ninety One
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