Sometimes the light sits just right It leans up against my windowsill Smokes thick red cigarettes And drools dark clouds of smoke down the doorway Drips onto the floorboards Seeps into the carpet and up the legs of my bed People, they sit on their porches Laughing, telling stories, and drinking bread And on a good warm day You can fly across town and pull fruit from the sky And drown yourself in the river The girls here, they're so pretty I just start talking Some days I think about leaving Just because