From the recording Shadows Until Light

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Riding the Wreck *

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(Banjo by Terry McClain)

Suitcase on the fireplace with hand grenades and lemonade-
Toothache from a fruitcake while the neighbors make their living room your life- Fit
bicycles with cans of mace while the real disgrace is open faced- The only place
you'd never guess, the mess of a Utopian crest won't fly- And some, they realize with
screeching brakes and no one driving- You're not the wreck that I waited for!
Basking in the sun again with their fake tans on reprimand- Too close to heat, their
brain is beat, their feet asleep but they don't need to hide- A small corner grocery
store, fresh thugs and more served ripe and warm- Screening whores for weekend
tours to aid the poor markets to incline- Some may realize with screeching brakes and no one driving -(Chorus)- You're my life- Clothespin from the
bottom bin where you hold the sins you get done again- For a cheap price and some
well placed ice you'll clean the slate for a new plate of some sunshine- Mother goose
in combat boots kicking Minnie and Mickey Mouse- She sold the house with the big
shoe- Now all those kids are on welfare too no doubt