"Vicky's Box"

He

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 eat

I feel boxed in

I feel boxed in

I feel boxed in

Think I'll be alright

Home is where the heart lies

The heart lies

The hard lies

The sun hurts, drying up the 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 waking flies and a child

Girl you call friend

Two kids throw rocks and look at me

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