The Girl, The Gun, The Horse Lyrics

Dad's making coffee

In the broken pot

The kitchen smells like cinnamon

And the tang of last night's scotch

Peer over the stove

Level to the counter top

Mom is brewing something

She warns me that it's hot

My hands are always sticky

My mouth is always dry

I want to lick the windex

That is dripping down my eyes

In the window reflection

I give myself a smile

Like seeing an old friend

That I knew as a child

Take your second smallest finger

In my palm and tug

When I tell you follow me

I don't mean to bug

But I just need a second

To feel like I am seen

I'm sitting at the table

With nothing beneath my feet

Smoking up the back porch

Speaker on the floor

Playing some old tune about

The girl, the gun, the horse

The clinking of the ice cubes

The image in my mind

You lick your lips slowly

They taste like peroxide

Your room is sacred

Don't know what things are said

It must be more salacious

Than the talking in my head

Rug burn down my shoulders

You watch me as I cry

But I will forgive you

When you tell me that I'm fine

Take your second smallest finger

In my palm and tug

When I tell you follow me

I don't mean to bug

But I just need a second

To feel like I am seen

I'm sitting at the table

With nothing beneath my feet

I'm sitting at the table

With nothing beneath my feet

And I should toughen up

You say it's funny when you tease

And I'm sitting at the table

With nothing beneath my feet