From the recording Steak and Plywood
The smell of steak and plywood was my summer job, at the hardware store that shared the steak house parking lot. And I'm here to tell you you never been hungry, or thirsty for a fresh iced tea, until you've worked a week of Sundays loading trucks out in the summer heat.
The cashier was pretty, a siren at her best, a skin surrounded angel, beneath her hardware vest. And I'm here to tell you you never been hungry, or thirsty for the kiss of something sweet, until you've worked a week of Sundays and watched her wipe away the summer heat.
I took her in my car by the river, a tangled mess of near-sighted dreams. Then I took her out to dinner, and I had everything I'd been craving for weeks...