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."