| Lyrics |
you gotta have the right toolsfor every jobso I invite myself inthrough a hole in the fence
I am tripping through the junkyardscanning over the pilesthe thin cats raise their skin in defense
I know he's watching me
I can see him through the crackshis eyes are small and shy on my backhe says his name is jasonhe lives in the last trailer on the rightand he'll be sevenon the fourth of julyonly the people who live hereknow the name of this placemy path through iowa would behard to traceall the adults in this towntry not to frownwhen I walk bybut jason smiled at mehe met my eyehe don't ask mewhere I'm fromor why I camehere alonewe all go looking for paradisethen we go back homewe cut out the small talkgo right to the way things arehe showed me his squirrel skull
I told him I locked myself out of my carso there goes the only friend
I have in iowahis hand flapping behind himwaving good-byehis name is jasonhe lives in the last trailer on the rightand he'll be sevenon the fourth of july
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