Lyrics: Henry Easton Koehler/Jack Schrott
Music: Will Fortna/Henry Easton Koehler/Jack Schrott/Matthew Palmquist
Down where the Pampanito sailed its barnacled hull
Mariners with their salty beards lead a sea sick carnival
Airplanes polluting in B-line patterns were a roaring noisy drill
Twelve young sailors came strutting from a tavern, one sucking on a popsicle
Here we are sitting with your friend and her mans, musing about Renoir
Two lovely people making big big plans for their East Coast hero's arc
Tomorrow the sunβs gonna grant us passage into another waking week
Weβll lock the doors and hold onto the rafters as the earthquake shits a squeak
A solid backhand can be a lifetime asset, as can this poblano spread
Writing a song about writing a song is harder done than said
Back in portland deep inside all the comforts that I know
Sam will get me higher than jewish rye and iβll call you on the phone
The headlines come and the headlines grow and they paint the days at will
Up ahead on this steep scree slope is there a beacon on the hill
Oh i never learned the physics of Sysyphus or the dance of eurydice
But i can make due with these three small rules:
Keep it quiet, tight, and clean
Forever fleet week, itβs forever fleet week
Forever fleet week