Okay, hey, I'm going outside You can put the plate back on the shelf And its cold, though the snow isn't falling The neighbor can speak for himself And the cold, hard, look in your eye Is more than a line in the sand And the truth gets hard to imagine The hours get harder to stand There's a seasick terminal passenger singing this song to himself 'Till the store-bought soul on his skeleton leaks into somebody else He's a seesaw caught in a storm, a hurricane after the war When he drinks all the blood you can offer, he still wants more Lemon plains, and rumbling trains Are shaking the ground in our town again Thought it twice, and kicking the ice I got myself turned back around, singing Everything's gonna be fine, sure that we'll both be okay Hey, I'm backing outside, now just put the plate back on the shelf And its cold, though the snow isn't falling The temperature speaks for itself Its a moonlit reason to quit, and nobody answers the phone So if there's still blood left in your body, I'll come back home