Packing cancer in my glovebox on a Tuesday evening drive
As I'm passing Amargosa, you are passing through my mind
And my car is headed eastward while the sun is racing west
Guess my body's moving forward, but my mind is turning left
Highschool's only checking boxes off a list
Getting kissed, taking hits, try hallucinogenics
And it's not what you'd expect, but then again it's what it is
I put my arm around you slowly, all my nerves are on the fritz
And we get together on December the seventh
You remind me Hawaii was blown to the heavens
On your birthday, 70 years from the present
As we celebrate, I'm counting my fingers like blessings
And then you call me on my cellular phone
I'm on the road, up the coast, we booked a couple of shows
You asked me if I sing about you, I was sorry to say no (sing about)
You said, "That's okay baby, I don't write you any poems"
But we'll get together on December the seventh
You'll remind me Hawaii was blown to the heavens
On your birthday, 70 years from the present
As we celebrate, count each other's fingers like blessings
Then you'd come over, always so unexpected
Picking fruit from the trees that I left unattended
Playing word games, watching the vowels descending
Like an air raid on spaces that I had neglected
But if we both go uncommemorated
By each other's free verse and lyrical phrases
We'll be okay just driving familiar pavements
Past our places, all wasted like Ford Island bases