Jets to Brazil /

Crown of the Valley

We are the high street service trays coming to take you away
Pasadena '68, with speed on your breakfast plate
Aunt cancer calls them happy pills
They keep her calm and cool until he leaves

The moccasin skin obsession leather thigh, white tennis skirt so high
The eyes of nine are new and kind when the hair's not gray, it's white
And grandpa burns an ascot noose
Can't tie the tassles on his shoes, leave me

Oh god, stop tearing off the roof
Of my experimental bathroom
It's the only thing that's halfway mine
And not for your prying or lying eyes

These are the red-eyed politics, the cocktail revisionists
War room rules, no wives or kids, hear men sing the boy in them
The hedge casts heroes late across the lawn, the valley hunt militia men all gone
Thought we had the lock in '54, now the maid owns the house next door, what's more

Swims in the pool she used to clean
Our new king looks like a queen
Leave me

The empire's melting like ice cream
On the altar of the sun
This skin we've stretched for centuries
It's faded, it's fraying, it's meaningless to me