Michael Penn - Half Harvest

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from March I dont care that you wont quit this notion of burying the carnival but what the hell is in your potion thats made you so dull? So I cannot make a blind from sawdust much less a cool millennium, but Id much rather feel the heat of August than be sheltered and numb So move out of your bed of roses, now Im putting in a bed of nails, cause missiles, guns and rubber hoses will land me in jail This paradise is slowly crumbling from here to Wilshire Boulevard but the rubble over which you are stumbling just isnt that hard What did you do with all that grace, now? what did you do with all my wine? what makes you think that just cause you dress bright it means that you shine? So move out of your bed of roses now Im putting in a bed of nails cause when this whole production closes this innocence fails (and werent we supposed to) SHINE...like half harvest never shone SHINE...like half harvest never known.

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