The country's breathing a sigh of stars A bitch's baby from a buzzard's egg American fortune seekers West coast gold diggers Southern forgetters There's something wrong I'm panning for hope in a junk sick river Trying to find the other two bits on my dollar Down fault lines and phone lines On eveyr breath of every dawn There's something wrong The prairie's bearing the vulture's child The whippoorwill sails on a lonesome call From the twilight to the horizon There's something wrong I'm looking for the jackalope in a burnt out car In the dirt behind the daydream Through a window painted on a blackened building There's something wrong And the click-clack of the freight train goes This and that, this and that 'Till your ears are ringing And your vision is clouded