Dirty July morning, clothes flapping on the line
flapping on the line clothes flapping on the line
The cops sent out the warning Phantom One has done his time
Phantom One has done his time, Phantom One has done his time
But that don't mean nothing to me, could care less if he rots in his cell
Cause I've got a fuse of my own to burn as I stand in line and take my turn
Waiting for the mail
I was promised a letter, at least a Japanese postcard
Japanese postcard, Japanese postcard
And after all of these days I can count all the ways
I ain't seen nothing like that so far
Nothing like that so far, nothing like that so far
And I wonder if she's in trouble, what kind of demons are on her trail
But there's nothing I can do, to change the changes she's been through
While I've been waiting for the mail
Last night I dreamed about a motel near the border
A dim light and a $20 room
Swear poured from my brow as I lay there frozen
I was wide awake and not a minute too soon
Well the buzzards fly up to the heavens, dogs sound asleep on the porch
Sound asleep on the porch, dogs sound asleep on the porch
And it's a year to the day that the fields burned away but I still carry this torch
I still carry this torch, I still carry this torch
And I'm feeling a little bit seasick, but I still got one hand on the rail
And one eye on the road, cause there's where my future will unfold
While I'm waiting for the mail
And there's nothing I can do, to change the changes she's been through
While I've been waiting for the mail
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