What will thanksgiving bring to me, the table? Everyone crawling in disguise feathers up casting shadows The movements slowly moving Marches breathing As February marches in the game Whispers my name Her thunder rolling The path upside down looking up to us In our small town aching Fear blistered You missed your stop Quake in fury Hath the stoplight shown to protest you And your quarry The muscles outweigh fame and hang America But we’re down south now Reminiscing of blowjobs and Seven eleven For about twenty years I’d say Unravel bright decay A standing ovation A full applause