Mata wasn't pretty and she knew it well
She didn't leave home before the city slept
Out of the storm drain she crawled like a slug
Keeping her anxieties and Ativan with her
When I came along you were lying in the gutter
Struck by a car, convulsing in a puddle of your blood
And every week that summer lasts
And every month that summer softens
And every year that summer comes again
I haven't set foot through that doorway or heard your voice
(Mata)
But I am still singing in the breezeway every night
And I am sitting on the edge your bed, singing
Mata mata
Mata mata
Sing out a tune and I'll hum along
Whisper a secret and I will listen
Sing out a tune and I'll hum along
Ask me to leave and
(Mata mata)
I am still singing in the breezeway every night
And I am sitting on the edge your bed, singing
Mata mata
Mata mata
Mata mata
Mata mata
Ugly boy in storefront window
Bicycle shop and one bright orange cone
Lancaster was a lonely waitress
Who kept talking and wouldn't let us
Leave me alone I don't need you scrutinizing me
Down to the amount of sugar packets in my tea
Hold you under the faucet until your face is gargling blue and green
One eye becomes truth, the other eye God