Count Us In
Robert Pollard
We are living, badly breathing
In a time of fine exhibits
We are humping the fire wagon
For a finger in a glass of water
Just to catch our breath
In a time of fine exhibits
Losing words for progress
Gaze upon your savior
Your plastic deals and silver walls
Make it happen
You are driving an invisible woman
Home from the grave and she's hot on the trail
Of your lover and you can't hit her
You can't touch her so say goodnight
We are living
We are living
We are living
We are living
We are living