#138 (of 365) "Unless it's Kicks" Okkervil River

What gives this mess some grace
Unless it kicks, man
Unless it's fiction, unless it's sweat, or it's songs?
What hits against this chest
Unless it's a sick man's hand
From some mid-level band?
He's been driving too long
On a dark windless night, with the stereo on
With the towns flying by and the ground getting soft
And a sound in the sky coming down from above
It surrounds you and sighs and it's whispering of
What pulls your body down, and that is quicksand
So, climb out quickly, hand over hand
'Fore your mouth's all filled up
What picks you up from down unless it's tricks, man?
When I've been fixed, I am convinced that I will not get so broke up again

"Unless It's Kicks" - Okkervil River // The Stage Names (2007)