A garden hose behind your back

[Verse 1 – Rhythmic talk-sing, deadpan, dry] Nokia buzzed. Workbench shook. The lawnmower deck was halfway off. You said the alternator gave up. Near the Texaco. The one with the cracked pavement. [Verse 2 – Staccato, building friction] I have grease under my thumbnail. From the blade I was sharpening. I-5 was a parking lot of brake lights. I left the engine idling in the drive. Because you sounded like you were bleeding. [Chorus – Gritty, swagger, belted] Quit pulling the handle. I won't run through the mud. I’m done with the sirens. You taste like copper and salt. Standing in the hall dripping wet. With a garden hose behind your back. [Verse 3 – Close-mic, cold, procedural] Last Tuesday. The "shadow" by the shed. Forty-two dollars and sixty cents. Spent at the pharmacy for a plastic monitor. I watched the green light blink on your wrist. While you talked about a leather purse. [Bridge – Minimal, motorik, hypnotic] One. Uncoil the cable. Two. Scrape the lead. Three. You are humming while I am vibrating. Four. Slam the hood. Chip the white paint. I’m not coming back for the basement "accident." [Chorus – Explosive, distorted, high energy] Quit pulling the handle. I won't run through the mud. I’m done with the sirens. You taste like copper and salt. Standing in the hall dripping wet. With a garden hose behind your back. [Outro – Shaky voice, fading to static] It was the Texaco. Actually. The sign wasn't even broken. Keep the straws. The grass is getting too tall.