A struck match faded like a nervous laugh
beyond the halo of a naked bulb
your low voice mingles with your other half’s;
schoolfriends in second-hand clothes
eventually your world will shrink within four walls
of neglected debts and stolen stereos.
So move away jimmy blue
before your small, small town turns around
and swallows you
A drunk mother was the cue
for the legendary things that you do
behind a carnival tent with mud on your face
behind the old glue factory too.
So move away jimmy blue
before your small, small town turns around
and swallows you
Wet feet visit the same old places
finding nothing new
it’s a binful of tissues from made-up faces
in a townful of nothing to do
a love match with the moon
in a layby, while insects hum and
you got put in the darkness of a woman’s womb
jimmy blue.
So move away, yeh,
move away jimmy blue
before your small, small town
turns around and swallows you.