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Plain Jane Automobile
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The Collector
How do you kill the moon?
When it's over your shoulder
Shining on you till it's dead
You drive in your car ever faster
Down ancient roads
Fueled by the maps in your head
There's an old lady
She's a collector
And the town where
She sleeps is her bed
She scoops up some dirt
Into a plastic bag
So she will never forget
She was there
Out on the highway
There are two men in suits
With bright yellow stars
On their chests
They're covered in ashes from head
To toe this is a memory that
She always tried to forget
And all of her friends they're stored
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In boxes up on the shelf
And she never really had
The chance to tell them that she loved them
Or anything of the sort
I suppose they bent the rules
Buried the lies and painted us fools
So I guess it's true
This town is full of rumors
Steady old men
They've got no sense of humor
I suppose we bent the rules
I suppose they bent the rules
Buried the lies and painted us fools
So I guess it's true
This town is full of rumors
Steady old man
They've got no sense of humor
I suppose they bent the rules
Buried the lies and painted us fools
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