Classic Cars Bright Eyes

She was a real royal lady, true patron of the arts
She said the best country singers die in the back of classic cars
So if I ever got too hungry for a suitcase or guitar
To think of them all alone in the dark

So I laid some nights beside her in a bed made for a queen
She said I kissed her different, that all the men her age were mean
Gave me anything I wanted, oh the generosity
I took all that I could, it was free

Now the sky's a torn-up denim and the clouds are just splattered paint
It's a room I'm renovating; it's a name I got to change
If I get out of California, I'm going back to my home state
To tell them all that I made a mistake

And I keep looking for that blindfold faith
Lighting candles to a cynical saint
Who wants the last laugh at the fly trapped in the windowsill tape
You can go right out of your mind trying to escape
From the panicked paradox of day to day
If you can't understand something then it's best to be afraid

The whole world it loves you if you're a chic chameleon
Intersecting circles, she could hang with anyone
But when conducting business she would lie about where she's from
Saying, "Life is how it is not how it was"