Verse 1:
Yonder come a skiff with a pierot pole
He got a lantern bobbing 'round like a ghostly soul
Heading back home in a drizzling rain
And his cooler is empty again
Seven little kids standing 'round the 'skeeter light
It looks like goulash again tonight
He can't wait to get home again
And to taste his woman's skin
Racing the birds, hoping to win
Verse 2:
Who is this clown on my radio?
He's got polish and money but he's got no soul
Lyrics straight from the second grade
About beer and minimum wage
I've got too much to say in a three minute song
But I can't sing longer 'cus you won't listen long
You'll stand over there by the shuffleboard
Holding your martini like a red hot sword
I wish I was a bird, or at least a Ford
Verse 3:
I guess we're all just running through life
Like a chicken from an old buck knife
Moving so fast you can't sit still
Swept in the current against our will
I don't play games unless I make the rules
I only wanna give a piece of myself to you
But I can't slow down and I know why,
Gotta find some shade from this buzzard's sky
Racing the birds, looking for rhymes
Yeah racing the birds, looking for rhymes
credits
from Eclipse,
released October 12, 2010
Written by Jason Marbach
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