Exile from NIGHT by Tom Jessen

Well it feels like doing time
maybe it's time to clean this slate
well my bosses veins were popping
because on Monday morning I came in 3 minutes late
and they're selling booze to drunkards
in fluorescent shopping malls
they traded God for trinkets
VCRs, talking cars and autograph basketballs

When's the end of this exile
can I finally go home
The communion of saints is calling
and they're singing the best songs
and reciting divine psalms

All the ballrooms have closed down
everybody's locked away in rooms
well they used to go out dancing
toasting the night time with a stiff glass of booze
now they fall asleep on their couches
watching TV
they used to own their own business
now they support their own home on a line in a factory

I don't think I belong here
but where the hell can you go
there's poachers in the mountains
and there's pimps selling fur on the city streets below

can I go home
after this our exile

• Alt-Country
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