Wash

The mirror is sweating

I can’t see my freckles

I’m a blurry rendition

Of a boy dirty from playing

Football in the yard

Where the hedge is a touchdown

And the brick walkway

Is the 50-yard line

But you don’t have a teammate

So its really just tackle

That boy you’re opposing

That particular day

I never could win that football game

I’m a blurry rendition

Of a boy dirty from playing

Wash, wash

Wash, wash

Wash, wash

Wash, wash

The soap in the dish

Is lavender scented

A nightly routine

During cigarette season

Drenched in my hair

Over drunk conversations

Bout the best place to find

A steak in St. Louis

When its three in the morning

And the bars are all closed down

I don’t know this guy

But the heaters keep rolling

I get nervous with strangers

So my hands do the talkin

The soap in the dish

Is lavender scented

Wash, wash

Wash, wash

Wash, wash

Wash, wash