Titillation's been replaced
By interstate, brick face and Coffee-Mate
And by a list of phone calls
Where you could sit on the edge of your bed
And you could stare into your own shoes
And in the pools of light there
Just rig up a complication
You can throw away the rudder
And float away like vapour trails
There's nothing funnier than pride
In an utterly confident stride
So I pulled the car on over
Damn this sleepy weather he said
As he marched in sopping wet shoes
Through rain pools evaporating
He says in this sign I'll conquer you
But there's nothing uglier
Than a man hitting his stride
Past Mexicans all dressed in beige shirts
It's time to let them sprinklers hose
Past hills of chambermaids' dark bare arms
And fields of muscle quilted to the bone
Right now I'm flying over
Yeah, right now I'm flying home
Where I can sit on the end of my bed
And I can stare into my own shoes
And in the pools of light years
And throw away the rudder
And float away on vapour trails
(Mexicans dressed in beige shirts)
I rigged up a complication (leaning over their hoes)
So I throw away the rudder
Float away like vapour trails (now the morning's over)
(It's time to let them sprinklers hose)
Throw away the rudder (float away on a vapour trail)
Throw away the rudder (float away on a vapour trail)
Throw away the rudder (float away on a vapour trail)
WRITERS
Robert Baker, Gordon Downie, Johnny Fay, Joseph Langlois, Robert Gordon Sinclair