Trotsky's Fence - Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

My small town, Napoleon

Would tell me I am not up with love

Well just because I share your dark hair

Does not make us friends

She threw an accordion

From the highest floor

And when it hit the ground

That’s when I found the door

Can’t fix it

Fevered pitches

The artist

Who paints no more

It’s not that I don’t admire her

I flashed her a gin grin

It is merely that she tires me

And scares me half to death

She stood behind Trotsky’s fence

Divulging the secrets of electroshock treatment

Like a feather weight on a freight train

Searching endlessly away

She will not speak

Will not believe

She will not even face

My animal friends

My animal friends

My animal friends

My animal friends

My animal friends

Melting icecaps all around

The tables set here comes the clown

She’s holding hands with Death

I guess I am to blame for this big mess

The history book is open to rules

That separates you from me