GCDG
CDCG
Gather up some punk wood.
It's the best kind to burn.
All around this neighborhood.
Stacks at every turn.
It's a pocketknife revolution.
Started a long time ago.
Only a minor intrusion.
In the days of Texico.
Cervecerias in the afternoon.
Acoustic relaxations.
Everything seems so in tune.
Away from the demonstrations.
It's that leftover October heat.
The kind you thought was gone.
Grass as dry as the creek.
Been cooking all summer long.
Sweet mesquite sunset breeze.
Umbrellas got enough slop.
Ignoring the pains in our knees.
And drown the stomach knots.
The ice is getting down to the slush.
But the melt is still cold.
We got time, no need to rush.
Napping to the Black Crowes.
