Ditchdigger
Hairy chests like vulture's nests, And macho tests meant to impress
The ditch is deep I must confess, You won't believe it 'til you see it with your eyes
A pile of plastic theater seats, They melt in heaps on crooked streets
We add some more and then repeat, And the photographs still haunt you in your dreams
Oily-rag jet-lag, I'm hanging like a toe-tag, a fourteen-hour, pink martini, blunder of a jag
I'm nearly knuckled under, just a thin veneer of wonder, as I pull the Geiger counter from the bag
I pull the Geiger counter from the bag
Car alarms wake insect swarms, Their shadows fall on frozen forms
Like statues lost in winter storms, Still waiting for the words to reach their teeth
Put me in a ditch and let me dig, dig, dig, Put me in a ditch and let me dig, dig, dig
Dig my way to Bali in a Condoleeza wig
And I'm never gonna look back twice oh no
Oily-rag jet-lag, I'm hanging like a punching bag, a never-ending, sense-offending travesty of a gag
Standing with a pickaxe, I'm falling through the open cracks
I'm still searching, the earth's still lurching, and the sky begins to sag
Ships are going under, an obituary wonder, and they take me for a shower in the slag
And they tell me that the future's in the bag
Put me in a ditch and let me DIG, DIG, DIG
The ditch is deep I must confess, You won't believe it 'til you see it with your eyes
A pile of plastic theater seats, They melt in heaps on crooked streets
We add some more and then repeat, And the photographs still haunt you in your dreams
Oily-rag jet-lag, I'm hanging like a toe-tag, a fourteen-hour, pink martini, blunder of a jag
I'm nearly knuckled under, just a thin veneer of wonder, as I pull the Geiger counter from the bag
I pull the Geiger counter from the bag
Car alarms wake insect swarms, Their shadows fall on frozen forms
Like statues lost in winter storms, Still waiting for the words to reach their teeth
Put me in a ditch and let me dig, dig, dig, Put me in a ditch and let me dig, dig, dig
Dig my way to Bali in a Condoleeza wig
And I'm never gonna look back twice oh no
Oily-rag jet-lag, I'm hanging like a punching bag, a never-ending, sense-offending travesty of a gag
Standing with a pickaxe, I'm falling through the open cracks
I'm still searching, the earth's still lurching, and the sky begins to sag
Ships are going under, an obituary wonder, and they take me for a shower in the slag
And they tell me that the future's in the bag
Put me in a ditch and let me DIG, DIG, DIG
Credits
Writer(s): Ehren Borg
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