Red Tide

There's a smell here that stands my hairs on end Dog hair in the heater Gas pumps and cedar And jackknifes on the 9 And sea birds choked in fishing line The clouds say "hush," but the chainsaws mush on Through Custer and Columbia Salty tentacles shrink in the sun but the red tide is over The mollusks, they have won There's a smell here of gravel and cigarettes lit When the match made them sweet When the engine turned over and beat up our street Oh, that was a day to remember I remember because of the fires that leapt From the caves of the things that have not happened yet When I think of them now, they smell to me quite sinister I want to go back and die at the drive-in Die before strangers can say "I hate the rain" "I hate the rain."