Текст Bad Books – Mesa, Az

We passed eight hundred miles, talking circles about living with loss
You said your sense of humor’s always helped you get above and across
Every hurdle, every chasm, every shocking and unspeakable blow
Just proves the universe is chaos, so you laugh to clear the lump from your throat

But if you’re fixed on being bitter
Go be bitter on your own
We’re still two hours from El Paso
Arizona’s such a long way to go

The chemicals were coursing through our bloodstreams at incongruous rates
I was time-traveling inward through a past life I can never erase
You were hanging out the window
You said, «We’re just a beggar’s banquet in space»
And you were laughing at the moon
And you were cursing it for wearing your face

Me and New Mexico are orphans
Or is it bastards?
Either way: I think I know a guy in Roswell
We’ll hitch a moon ride
Steal you back your face

You sleep and whistle «Blackbird» backwards while my eyes cut her name in clay
You wake to Mesa, Arizona
Say, «Let it go, she’ll change her mind someday»
You took the wheel in Mesa, Arizona
«I got the rest, man
You can drift away»