Disaster Tourism

Call me outside I'll come running down. When I satisfied each need invented by my eye I was a nest by a fox's hole Or dirt underneath your boot soles when I satisfied each need invented by my eye. It was nothing like I'd imagined. Like cocaine, their green eyes fixed on the television to pass the time until their two miles of elegant blinds halfway raised for the watching as you walked by. "Look, come down to the window - she carries a candle at mid-day while the sun's still so high!" But you knew better than to pay mind to what people and the devil can say. Call me outside, I'll come running down to the vacant, intoxicating night. Call me outside to their haunted streets. Their red electric lights, I'm on the sad side of a nowhere town. But sister I'm all you got so call me outside. I'll come running down then not another word.