Vicky's Box - Throwing Muses

Won’t ride in cars anymore

It reminds him of blowjobs

That he’s a queer

And his hair

Stuck to the roof, over the wheel

Like a pigeon on a tire

Goes around

And circles over circles

And he’s a queer

And his hair on the roof

Like a pigeon

Goes around

Says he’s a man

And his eyes

And his hair

And his eyes

Say he’s a man

He won’t ride anymore

He won’t ride anymore

He won’t ride anymore

Home is a rage

Feels like a cage

Home is what you read

How you breathe

Home is how you live

I feel boxed in

I feel boxed in

I feel boxed in

Think I’ll be all right

Home is where the heart lies

The heart lies

The heart lies

Welcome home

Welcome home

Welcome home

It’s under the strangle of winter

I only love pieces of things that I hate

Like this box, this piece of roof

I can’t grasp, can’t see true

A piece of past

Days like today

Like a decade ago

Painful to remember like today

I’ve been here another year, another day

Ocean waving flies and a child

Girl, you complain

To kiss the rotten broken knee

You may be dreaming

You may be bleeding

You may be in this box

A kitchen is a place where you prepare

And clean up

Clean up

Clean up

Clean up