Lyrics I Like the Air - Robert Francis

I Like the Air

Filed down coffins in the neighborhood.
A Spanish girl walking by the cemetery
wood
Five in the pan, we do what we can though it ain’t right
A fat man sitting on the side of his remote, his daughter’s in the kitchen
trying to clean his coat
I bet she can’t
The rattle of a bottle on a warped wooden desk, shaking back and forth beside
my bated breath
A blind girl laughing while I stare at her chest, I’m in the zone
I won’t survive if I make it out alive
Seven/ten split, I don’t got…
Down on Main Street, I got friends waiting there
I don’t need no drop off girls
I like the air
Elysian Park through the dark about a mile
A little white girl with a Bobby King smile
Blue little bags she says she knows I’m feeling bad I’m worth your while
But here 'tween the palette feelings I don’t understand, cardboard cutouts,
just be a man
Have fun walking home in Mike Davis land
Pull the wool over my eyes
I don’t want to understand
I like the trees, the army and the colors that they wear, they like to scare
A few blocks home from remembering my name, a few blocks home
Down on Main Street, I got friends waiting there
I don’t need no drop off girls, I like the air