On the clothesline there is a lock suitcase Filled with older they got so drag When the lines begin to sag Gather bottles from the creek Loser cracks one there goes their pull the locks onto the gone No turning back my shoes are stained from digging in the dirt Nostalgia radar Screaming red alert Sunday afternoon in fall Propped up against the wall Surround wonder if theyre done with trying to sing on the Dont things are safe and youll my boots are framed By postmark of the the toughest thing is broken now And my shoes are stained From digging the dirt Nostalgia radar Screaming red alert They are They are
nostalgia, radar, alert, stained, digging