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Don't Move Back To LA

de Okkervil River

A black sheep boy revolves
Over canyons and waterfalls
A black sheep boy dissolves
In syringe or in shower stalls

He says there's plenty of time
To make you mine tonight
He says there's plenty of time
To make you mine
He says there's plenty of ways
To know you're not dying, alright?
Hell, there's plenty of light still left
In your eyes,
In your eyes

A black sheep boy grows horns
Breathing smoke through his microphone
The airwaves stretch and they groan
Bleeding, birthing his black diapason

He says there's plenty of things
To wear when you come to me,
Every colour of sleeve to be rolled
Millions of rolling eyes that still cling to me
Every language of king is concerned

So why did you bawl
From the spell of some old holy song
That some liar laughed as he composed
Some liar I loved to control

A black sheep boy dissolves
In hot cream and sweet moans
In each dead bed and empty home
In each seething bacterium
Killing sofly and serial
He lifts his head, handsome, horned, magisterial

He's the smell of the moonlight wisteria
He's the thrill of the abecedarian
See he muddy hoofprints where he carried you

And there's plenty of ways to claim
His crimes tonight
And there's plenty of things to do
On his dime
And there's plenty of ways to wear
His hide tonight

You've got yours,
I've got mine
You've got yours,
I've got mine

So why did you flee
Don't you know you can't leave his control
Only call out his wild works your own
So come back and we'll take them all on
So come back to your life on the lam
So come back to your old black sheep man

He says "I'm waiting,
On hoof and on hand,
I am waiting,
All hated and damned"
He says "I'm waiting,
I snort and I stamp"

I am waiting,
You know that I am
Calmly waiting
To make you my lamb

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