The Sorcerer of Kalamazoo

I spilled my guts as a proper girl

I wiped them up with a blue eyed boy

While hanging out, he thought that he would dry

Blackbirds came down and scrawled my name into his side.

This is a small town, that mumbles under her breath

The days have blisters on their feet

The nights pray for rest

Choking on the silence, he's a simple man.

Wandering in the streets, bumming cigarettes

What will you share?

What will you concoct?

Well as the sorcerer of Kalamazoo

What pill will you hand out?

What will you share?

What will you concoct?

Well as the sorcerer of Kalamazoo

What pill will you hand out?

The rapids were grand.

They contain themselves

Only fibbing to the congregation that pats him on his back.

He looks good in brown, he feels best in black

Like a thistle on the road

There's nothing left to fight back.

What will you share?

What will you concoct?

Well as the sorcerer of Kalamazoo

What pill will you hand out?

What will you share?

What will you concoct?

Well as the sorcerer of Kalamazoo

What pill will you hand out?

What pill will you hand out?

What pill will you hand out?