Mata wasn't pretty and she knew it well She didn't leave home before the city slept Out of the storm drain she crawled like a slug Keeping her anxieties and Ativan with her When I came along you were lying in the gutter Struck by a car, convulsing in a puddle of your blood And every week that summer lasts And every month that summer softens And every year that summer comes again I haven't set foot through that doorway or heard your voice (Mata) But I am still singing in the breezeway every night And I am sitting on the edge your bed, singing Mata mata Mata mata Sing out a tune and I'll hum along Whisper a secret and I will listen Sing out a tune and I'll hum along Ask me to leave and (Mata mata) I am still singing in the breezeway every night And I am sitting on the edge your bed, singing Mata mata Mata mata Mata mata Mata mata Ugly boy in storefront window Bicycle shop and one bright orange cone Lancaster was a lonely waitress Who kept talking and wouldn't let us Leave me alone I don't need you scrutinizing me Down to the amount of sugar packets in my tea Hold you under the faucet until your face is gargling blue and green One eye becomes truth, the other eye God