The country's breathing a sigh of stars

A bitch's baby from a buzzard's egg

American fortune seekers

West coast gold diggers

Southern forgetters

There's something wrong



I'm panning for hope in a junk sick river

Trying to find the other two bits on my dollar

Down fault lines and phone lines

On every breath of every dawn

There's something wrong



The prairie's bearing the vulture's child

The whippoorwill sails on a lonesome call

From the twilight to the horizon

There's something wrong



I'm looking for the jackalope in a burnt out car

In the dirt behind the daydream

Through a window painted on a blackened building

There's something wrong

And the click-clack of the freight train goes

This and that, this and that

'Till your ears are ringing

And your vision is clouded