THE IN THE MAP
Music, Russell Ferrante/Lyrics, Lorraine
Slightly the Equator, Beneath a sun Waits a paradise And oblivion, Or so told our hero, In 1925, As he went to the river That ate so alive.
It starts as a in the clouds and snow, With than an America still to go. Steamrollers the sea, Wide as New City. only in the worst of the heat, In the it rises 40 feet. The green hell is a trap, So fall down The in the map.
Youd bet a forest would feed you, You would that bet. You you learned about fortitude As a cadet! The pranks, the floggings, bliss compared to this, As you hack the lianas hanging boas hiss.
There are thatll kill you with a single bite, your cotton britches to threads in a night, Homicidal gnats no bigger seeds, millipedes. Still you you love it and you wont be swayed Though you are fully unafraid. Hits heart like a thunderclap, So dont down The in the map
Back in the of Devon, You sweeten tea and sigh now to sleep till eleven, And watch the old go by. You smile at your heaven, And say that at last, stay, But by the gates The waits To drag you away. you away,
to the river. Its only in the worst of the heat, In the it rises 40 feet. The hell is a heady trap. fall .
There are bugs thatll kill you with a bite, your cotton britches to threads in a night, Homicidal gnats no than seeds, millipedes.