Foals in winter coats White girls of the north File past; one, five, and one They are the fabled lambs Of Sunday ham The EHS norm And they could float above the grass In circles if they tried A latent power I know they hide To keep some hope alive That a girl like I Could ever try Could ever try So we'll just skirt the hallway sides A phantom and a fly Follow the lines and wonder why There's no connection A week of rolling eyes And cheap shots from the trite And we're off to Nemarca's porch again Another afternoon With the goat-head tunes And pilfered booze We wander through her mama's house The milk from the window light Family portrait, circa '95 This is that foreign land With the sprayed-on tans And it all feels fine Be it silk or slime So, when they tap our Monday heads Two zombies walk in our stead This town seems hardly worth the time And we'll no longer memorize or rhyme Too far along in our crime Stepping over what now towers to the sky With no connection