Blind Melon

The clothesline of cold eyes
is washing away the face before
Now tell me what's wrong you see everyone's gone
You gotta do your best to decorate this dying' day
This dying' day
All over a bowl of bitter beans
All over a bowl of bitter beans
And outside way, way up high I got a quarter moon mist
hanging' over me
And now, I want that rocking chair outta there
Cause he's no longer living here