Collect your belt, and come collect your shoes
I wasn't born here, I'm just passing through
Don't speak of death and don't speak 'til you're spoken to
Rehearse your birthdate, and rehearse your name
Sundown Tijuana, sunrise in LA
Turn off the bedroom light for me
Hunt me, Pacific Coast, surround me at SFO
We're birds on the runway, we're lines on the road
Darling, I'll be up late, I'll send word from JFK
They've lost my trail, But I will never lose my way
Old folks are suspects and the kids are crimes
Our legs are scars and our hometowns are knives
With Grandmother's suitcase and your father's hazel eyes
My bags are checked and my crimes are confessed
A kiss on your forehead and sweat on your dress
I won't be coming home tonight
