Tekster: Mountain Goats, The. Fault Lines.

down here where the heat's so fine

I'll drink to your health and you drink to mine

as we try

to make the money we scored out in vegas hold out for a while

we drink

vodka from russia

we got chocolates from belgian

we have our strawberries flown in from england

but none of the money we spend

seems to do as much good in the end

I got a cracked engine block

both of us do

got a house, the jewels, the italian racecar

they don't make us feel better about who we are

I got termites in the framework

so do you

down here where the watermelon grows so sweet

where I worship the ground underneath of your feet

we are experts

in the art of frivilous spending

it's gone on like this

for three years I guess

and we're drunk all the time

and our lives are a mess

and the [something] love we swore to protect with our bodies

is stumbling across it's bleak ending

but none of the rage in our eyes

seems to finish it off where it lies

I got sugar in the fuel lines

both of us do

got a fight and the lies that we both love to tell

fail to send our love to it's reward down in hell

I got pudding for a backbone

but so do you



La la la La, hey hey.