Squeaky Fingers

Like it's a dream and there's a moon, and a tune

A shower in a motel room

And through the steam and in my ear, I can hear

Squeaky fingers on the mirror



Beyond the door, out in the lot, the night is hot

The kids are giving what they got

And is it me, or is it fey when I say

It reminds me of another day?



Out in the road, across the town, out and down

Where they disappear without a sound

Into the hole from whence they came, without a name

Giving and getting joy and pain



And into pants, then into boots and business suits

To fill them out while they commute

or to remain in tricked-out cars and country bars

County fairs and church bazaars, stay hard!



Like it's a dream in motion slow and they all know

I hear them come and watch them go

And as the steam begins to clear, I face the mirror

The evidence has disappeared



Into the hole from whence it came, still unnamed

Like tomorrow's town is just the same

Into the hole from whence I came, still unnamed

Like tomorrow's town is just the same, unnamed