Dust Bowl
Ethel Cain
Pretty boy
Natural blood-stained blond
With the holes in his sneakers
And his eyes all over me
Drive-in slasher flick again
Feeling me up as a porn star dies
He's watching me instead
8th grade death pact strike me dead
All of Alabama laid out in front of your eyes
But all you could see was me
You walked in, you were singing
You tried to wade in cause you wanted
Just to tell me who you were
You were kind, dying to tell me
You'll wait if I have to make sure
Grew up hard, fell off harder
Cooking our brains smoking that shit your daddy smoked in Vietnam
You'd be a writer
If he didn't leave all his hell for you
Saying if you could, you'd leave it all
I knew it was love
When I rode home crying
Thinking of you fucking other girls
And when you
Said that you're in love
I never wondered if you're sure
Pretty boy
Consumed by death
With the holes in his sneakers
And his eyes all over me
