palmetto rose

Lyrics

palmetto rose in the a/c vent, cross-stitch pillow where the headrest went, said his cab was his orneriest friend, left hand jumping the trees in the wind, thought he had the red lights memorized, glass in the gravel like the stars in the sky, in that slow-motion minute between living and dead, he looked in my eyes and he told me, he said, it's war that i wage to get up every day, it's a fiberglass boat, it's azaleas in may, it's the women i love and the law that i hate, but lord, let me die in the iodine state, lord, let me die in the iodine state, palmetto rose in the sidewalk mud, dirty white stem and a big green bud, catch them coming out of a king street store, some bullshit story about the civil war, now, you can believe what you want to believe, but there ain't no making up a basket weave, everybody in the tri-county knows, who makes the best palmetto rose, and it's war that we wage to get up every day, it's a basket of sweetgrass, a wedding bouquet, it's the ladies i love and the law that i hate, but lord, let me die in the iodine state, lord, let me die in the iodine state, out on sullivan's island, they're swimming, on the beach where the big boats rolled in, with the earliest slaves and their children, our first american kin, here on king street we're selling our roses, two for a five dollar bill, at night, after everything closes, i follow my own free will, and i take in my fill, i take in my fill