Buffalo Boys - William Patrick Corgan

Pasty-faced villains

Chalkware pilfers dimes

Pasty-faced villains

My baubles a’int your kind

‘Cause when a Buffalo boy trades

He nickels for rhymes

Oh, gather up Sunday

Sunday makes things right

Say, rail against Persimmon

Clothed in bat thorn fright

'Cause to dash from one outdrawn

You make sunrise

Tears from our maker

Fall like rain on a windshield

In that vast, old motion picture

That they call our reflection

In the flesh

In the flash

You court cold and union

To shine me like you could

You mourn as Delilah

Her best was hardly good

So know a buffalo boy leaves

He gains sainthood

Tears from our maker

Fall like rain on a windshield

In the vast, old motion picture

That they call our reflection

Shorn from mist

Oh, when ought we marry

And drink to Artesian wealth

So when ought we marry

Betrothed beneath the shells

'Cause any thirst that slows your gait

It’s still a spell

Yes, any thirst that slows your gait

Is still a spell