Black Out On White Night

The lights are out

The phones are dead

And I'm the only thing that's running in this city

Except for the clouds

Man, they're coming down

If I knew my way around, I wouldn't feel so dizzy

Where's the telly?

Nobody can tell me

I don't speak a lick of that language and got a slippery memory

If I spelled it all out on my arm

Only if

But I didn't, so I think, "Get a grip, kid. Deal with it"

Baby's waiting for a ring

And won't settle for the substitute excuse that's forming

I've got a complicated case of escapism

For her, I tried to rewire my nature

Too tired to wake her

Up out of that artificial calm she was on

A drug-induced future that slipped out of her palms

Seductive rain dancer, she thinks I'm waterproof

Like Superman doesn't need a roof over his head

When I come home to roost, I'll need truth to hold in bed

But I'm seeking salvation in a booth, and the phones are dead

And the lights are out

And I'm the only thing that's living in this ghost town

Except for the clouds

And man, they're coming down

If I knew my way around by now, I'd be bound for home

Black out on white night in Rome

Black out on white night in Rome

[Jolie Holland: singing]

I know that I'm in love, but I know I'm out of touch

And I know that I get dumb when I can sense something's up

And then I bottom out

European tailspin

Scrawling messages out on my pale skin in hopes they get mailed in

Before the ink poisoning takes effect

And it gets smudged 'cause I budge before letting paint set

I get judged by the ones who have shelter and rain checks

While I trudge through the mud because this foreign terrain's wet

Regain consciousness, then lose common sense

The ominous, dark skies that lie between me and Providence are signs

The obvious answer isn't standing on your face with stilettos on

If you pop the question wrong

Every song's a post afterthought, but I won't grab the chalk

To outline my body of work

Toe tags get caught in my teeth 'cause my foot is in my mouth

And the spurs are in my words, so my tongue can't dismount

Even after our rapport had fully run its course

I couldn't figure out the most heroic time to jump from the horse

And place this old hat for the last time on the coat rack

But I'd donate all my earnings from the race just to know that

Resisting urges to go back and get it later

Like the milk would unsour itself in the refrigerator

A wet boy in a dry, dry state

On an old country road where tradition has a blind date

I'll make it dance on its own grave tonight

With a change of direction by the pale moonlight

And if it needs theme music, I'll break out the bagpipes

Play a tune you ghostwrote me in a past life that goes like ...

[Jolie Holland: singing]

Black out on white night in Rome

Black out on white night in Rome

Black out on white night in Rome

Black out on white night in Rome