Cadillac Blindside
Straightjacket Weather

i thought you would be,
insane at twenty-three.
now,
i'm that weirdo screaming on the train.
you're setting fires inside my head.
i'd like to believe you.
it's not arson,
maybe just a warm goodbye for me.
it's cold inside my heart,
cold,
dark,
and crazy.
sweater weather for you,
and a straightjacket for me.
head down,
hands tied,
dreaming only of you.
who can rescue me from this padded room.
if i got my mouth on some cyanide,
or a shotgun,
maybe i'd survive.
head down,
hands tied,
dreaming only of you.
who can rescue me from this padded room.
and our get-away car is parked outside.
i'll ride shotgun,
baby,
you can drive.