Dustbowl Overtures
Sometimes the world sings hard like concrete
It ainít easy to listen when youíre staring at your feet
Like old Tom Waits after a long night of revelry
Dustbowl overtures and gravel pit harmony

Sometimes the world sings sweet and slow
Like a full-bellied bumblebee buzzing a secret youíll never know
And itís hard to wait for a freightliner full of bliss
But you can stay all night in a patient goodbye kiss

And the world is a whistle of a bullet going by
Itís a New York minute, itís a New Mexico sky
Itís the thing you didnít get to, and what youíve done for far too long
Itís the volume of an image, itís the vision in a song

Sometimes the world sings soft like a feather bed
Like a moonlit melody contra-dancing in your head
And youíve got to stare into her eyes, swinging around and around
Or you may get dizzy, you might fall right on down

And the world is a whistle of a bullet going by
Itís a New York minute, itís a New Mexico sky
Itís the thing you didnít get to, and what youíve done for far too long
Itís the volume of an image, itís the vision in a song

(Davis/Allen)
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