Because You Are The Very Air He Breathes

Dust moves off his arms and chest

As the vent window opens in his Volkswagen

Hundreds of Impalas and station wagons

Idle at the train crossing

The puddles that surround him

Are always made from sweat

The open sore on his face reminds him

That his blood is simply temporary

The gas is blowing in the trees

One whiff has brought me to my knees

At first you practice, practice to yourself

You are the very air, you are the very air

You are the very air he breathes

His head throbs and fills

With a big machine bag

I must be the richest man

To ever stand in line at the bank

The gas is blowing in the trees

One whiff has brought me to my knees

At first you practice, practice to yourself

You are the very air, you are the very air

You are the very air he breathes