Indiana Lyrics - Why There Are Mountains - Cymbals Eat Guitars

As the descent began I got the distinct impression 

Lake Michigan had been frozen for decades 

I conducted the warmth from my metronome sternum 

To our massive jetting vessel billowing plumes of spent fuel 

The tundra under us cracked and ruptured 

To reveal palisades 

Made of blades of gray, gray bristling grass 

And papulose lichen 

I was so frightened 

As my grip on you tightened 

Your skin got slicker 

I am a deserted bus depot 

Though our approach suggested 

An American hazy sea 

Like the one I found inside 

After driving you home once 

Still half high 

I-90 through utter desolation 

I sense evil at the heart of each far flung well lighted home 

I close my eyes and see cellar stairways 

Vermiculated with delicate animal bone