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