Winter Spring Summer Fall

He woke up alone
And left an awkward message on her unanswered phone
Yeah he'd gone too far
Michigan winter had snowbound his car
He reckoned it was wrong
Flashes of memory two seconds long
Melted into themselves on the frozen front lawn
He'd stay to himself from that moment on
'Cause every jello shot and every 80s mix
and every high school party in a basement in the sticks
Reminds him of all that he's broken and all he'll never fix
I heard a rumor it really upset her
And I know she'll probably never get better
I hate myself so thoroughly
Fill'er with regular, player, this state ain't for me

Spring quarter was glorious
The black crack more or less sells itself for us
The oil engineers
Pay off the mortgage and stay off the beers
The wife says don't get hysterical
What's good for Chevron is good for America
But these diapers just make me feel dirty
Guess I never gave too much thought to my thirties
'Cause every McPrius and every booster seat
and every morning meeting and every saved receipt
It all has me reaching for the past, has me raving in the street
Screaming from the refinery ladder
Tossing a flare into flammable matter
I could have played all this differently
I'm sorry baby, I don't think this decade's for me

She brought the wrong clothes
Sunshine freckled the bridge of her nose
The terror stays close
Forget for a year before college in Lagos
Where she would atone for her privilege
And a few dozen years of petroleum pillage
The news said something 'bout militants
The pipelines are burning out in the villages
But every sunken pier and every fetid stink
and every drunken leer and every broken sink
Reminds her of the party in the basement where she'd stopped in for a drink
Calling home to the states from the consulate
It's late and I hate to phone so disconsolate
But summer has burned me so horribly
Daddy I'm sorry I don't think the Peace Corps's for me

He loved watching her walk
October flooded the slums by the docks
So they set up on the rooftops
She was knee deep in slop and handing out mops
He knew in his heart he had to be heartless
And people like her are tearing apart this
country named after his darkness
White souls are as black as the oil they harvest
But every ransom picture and every cry of fear
And every forced signature and every panicked tear
Incited the unrequited love he'd feared would appear
I let the white woman go in the market
I think we should find an alternative target
You can't chain an angel indefinitely
Fellas, I'm sorry, I don't think this racket's for me