I lay around this stillborn Sunday The nameless, graceless wreck you leave in me I stood silent at your waking theater, Deluded and grotesque, I hemorrhage history But I won't be visited again By the ghosts of things that never came to be I won't let my heart settle in To the fallow soil that sprawls out From the fringes of the swaying Salton Sea We let their hurried beat busy our bones But our tempo tempered hearts are always idle We drink the water from their fountain This place could never be the things that we both need No, this place could never be the things that we both need And I want the things that I can't have And I need to find a new way out And I will crawl out from the wreckage of my past And we'll fall head first and weary of The place we've hung our hats for all these years Wait for the night, we'll disappear But I won't be visited again By the ghosts of things that never came to be I won't let my heart settle in To the fallow soil that sprawls out From the fringes of the swaying Salton Sea