Beady Eyes on the Horizon Jukebox the Ghost

There's a dead man hanging
Slumped over the steering wheel
Of an interstate runaway, bursting into flames
And the devil was gently breathing
Sleeping face-down in my apartment
And like all his friends, I'm growing tired of his games

And there's a homeless man, arranging his hands
Grooving to the beat radiating from a police scanner
He said, "The air was feeling good to me
As cool and ripe as air can be"
And a woman who sincerely believes in UFOs
Who can blame her when the
Stars are hanging overhead
Dangling by a thread
Floating ten thousand feet off the ground

This was a story told to me
When I was just the age of 17
One which God himself dictated to me
He said, "This is how all this shit's gonna be
When I blow your little planet into smithereens
Blow your little planet into smithereens"
It haunted my dreams
Like an accident on replay on
The TV screen