We drink vodka from Russia, we get our chocolates from Belgium. We have our strawberries flown in from England. But none of the money we spend seems to do us much good in the end. I got a cracked engine block, both of us do.
The house, the jewels, the Italian race car, they don’t make us feel better about who we are. I got termites in the framework, so do you. Down here where the watermelon grows so sweet, where I worship the ground underneath of your feet, we are experts, in the art, of frivolous spending.
It’s gone on like this for three years I guess, and we’re drunk all the time and our lives are a mess.” —The Mountain Goats, “Fault Lines”