Mile Markers The Dead Weather

The cold white flamingo wins at black-market bingo
That we used to play, but we don't play no more
We used to travel playing hotel games
Eating truck-stop dinners with Christian names
Pointing out porn in payphones pinned into the core
Now I just count mile markers between your door and my door

Big boys, bad girls
Grind their teeth in stereo
Big boys, bad girls
Grind their teeth in stereo

I creep, I don't move in the breeze like I used to
I bend backwards at the elbows and the knees
The silver tap is spewing crap and I'm halfway round the world
Flatlined in a space between my teeth

I churned my milk and honey, I lost track of all the money
My family rescued some other stray dog
When it rains, I open windows, I just lay there, I just lay
Getting waterlogged, trying to get along

Big boys, bad girls
Grind their teeth in stereo
Big boys, bad girls
Grind their teeth in stereo