Like a storefront display Songtext

von Howe Gelb

You poor old dump of wax
Limping sox full of tacks
You poor old out of wack
You poor old fucked up load
Crippled up on some crumpled road
You don't show up with out some flack
Here in the core of the crust
When your thrust turns to dust
Here in the core of the crust
Store front display
Eyes that stare and don't turn away
Wearing the same clothes for weeks
Feeling the same way for days
New way to harbor the day
Man does what he can
Makes a mess of what he must
Until his thrust turns to dust
(like a) store front display
Eyes that don't turn away
Don't turn away
Don't turn away