"BEHIND THE HOUSE (Long Bench Seat Version)" [Verse 1] Milkman comin' down the street 'fore the sun was up, Glass bottles sweatin' on the step, clink clink in the metal box, Cardboard cover on top, peel it with your thumb, Coupon on it said save ten, get a chocolate milk free, Mama kept 'em on the sill, cream stuck to the lid, And that glass went back next day to be washed again. But behind the house, the town built a soccer field, White lines where there was only tall grass before, Goals were made of metal, real nice, Heavy pipe, chipped white, they rang like a bell, PING, and you could hear it three streets over.[Chorus] [Verse 2] Cars had wings back then, jet lookin' things, Fins up to the sky like they wanted to fly off Restigoosh road, Two-tone Chevy, sea-foam and cream, Pontiac black and cherry red, Chrome grille like teeth, chrome 'round the windshield, Bullet tail lights, little rockets in the back, You knew who was comin' a block away by the rumble. And Lord, those cars — they had two couches, One in front and one in the back, Front one was a full bench, no split, no console, Just one long couch from door to door, And that was the best seat, cause she could sit right next to ya, Shoulder to shoulder, her skirt brushin' the seat cover, One arm on the wheel, one arm around her, (ooo ooo ooo) Heater hummin', AM radio cracklin' low. And behind the house, they built a field, Every kid within a mile knew where to go, Goals were made of metal, real nice, Strong enough to hold ya when you hung on the crossbar, After you thought you won the World Cup.[Chorus] [Verse 3] They were real pigs in the snow, those jet-winged couches, Long as a boat, rear-wheel drive, bald bias-ply tires, One little hill in town and you're spinnin', sideways, Everybody out pushin', breath in the cold air, Trunk full of nothin' but an old blanket and a spare. But that plow pile at the end of the driveway, Heavy, wet wall the town left for ya, If time ran away from you and you were late for school, Not to worry, all you had to do was hit D, And blast your way through, ( ooo ooo ooo ) Snow over the hood, over the roof, over that big chrome windshield, White cloud, wipers slappin', her laughin' right next to ya on that bench, Bumper made of real steel, snowbank never had a chance. [Bridge - invented, but true feeling] We'd park down by the field after dark, That same metal goal glowin' white in the headlights, Radio on, engine runnin' just for the heat, Bench seat back all the way, windows fogged up, You didn't need no bucket seats, no floor shift, You needed that one long couch and time to kill. ( Unh Unh Unh ) ( Bak Then Man , Bak Then Bak Then ) [Final Chorus - slow it down] Now the milkman don't come 'round no more, No glass, no cardboard coupon cap, Those jet-winged couches are rust in the weeds, Behind someone's barn, waitin'. But behind the house, in my head there's still a field, White lines that never fade, Goals were made of metal, real nice, Cold to the touch 'til noon, Strong enough to hold all of us, And that bench seat, Best seat in the world, Cause she could sit right next to ya. ( Bak Then Man , Bak Then Bak Then ) she could sit right next to ya (unh Unh )
