Trotsky's Fence

My small town, Napoleon
Would tell me I am not up with love
Well just because I share your dark hair
Does not make us friends

She threw an accordion
From the highest floor
And when it hit the ground
That's when I found the door
Can't fix it

Fevered pitches
The artist
Who paints no more

It's not that I don't admire her
I flashed her a gin grin
It is merely that she tires me
And scares me half to death

She stood behind Trotsky's fence
Divulging the secrets of electroshock treatment

Like a feather weight on a freight train
Searching endlessly away
She will not speak
Will not believe
She will not even face

My animal friends
My animal friends
My animal friends
My animal friends
My animal friends

Melting icecaps all around
The tables set here comes the clown
She's holding hands with Death
I guess I am to blame for this big mess
The history book is open to rules
That separates you from me