i chatter 'cross telephone lines
my teeth shake, mid summer
it isn't cold, and i miss you
like the spring showers
and newborn flowers, crisscrossin'
tossing up fives to the minute mart
owner buying Foxin Park soda
as the caps pop off onto the ground
and the cement makes no sound

my teeth chatter like i've been bightin' telephone lines
the feeling of a thousand volts across my mind.

my lips chapped from the air dry
no more fives to spend cheaply
i miss you.
this one is for you.