---

The sound of a man
Coming of age
Caressing the drink
He thinks is not fruitless

Coming back home
From punching that clock
Thinking aloud
"Man, I fucking hate Tuesdays"

Talk of the town
Talk of the town
Talk of the town
And the talk is so useless

Eyes on a clout
Beshes to gowns
Take it away
From the ones who deserve it

Feeling around
Stretching unwound
Sits on the couch
And he yells about the weather man

Talk of the town
Talk of the town
Talk of the town
And the talk is so useless

I feel these waves
Coming deep within my stove
With no direction home

And when my plate
Falls just beneath my bros'
The money's good, I know

Compelling design
Of southwestern skies
Back from the border
And into front labor

Preaching the stash
Of cumin and salt
Checking the status
‘Cause he pay no rent

Talk of the town
Talk of the town
Talk of the town
And the talk is so useless

I feel these waves
Coming deep within my stove
With no direction home

And when my plate
Falls just beneath my bros'
The money's good, I know

Talk of the town and the talk is so useless

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