Sing a song about your secretary and I know it’s going to be one of these rainy days: “I want to suck the life out of another man!” “Drink another dram of your favorite poison!” I know that stuff pulses in your father’s veins. “I want to blow the Winter out of the city!” And be lighter than raincloud on top of these salty islands. They’re just a photograph and you’ve always acted bad around them. You were born on a roller coaster and married on a ferris wheel, died in the haunted house and buried in the empty field and you were lighter than a raincloud and talking about these islands: “They’re just a photograph and you’ve always acted bad around them. You’re a fraud. You sing that ditty like you wrote it a week ago. You sing that ditty like you’ve never seen Islay in the snow.” Sing a song about your secretary and I know it’s going to be one of these razor blades. “I want to slit the life out of another man!”