Icicle Tusk
Robin Noel Pecknold
I'll shoot you dead for the father
Of the coal miner's daughter
Beneath the icicle tusk
You and me among the flattering dusk
In my haste I draw my weapon
Designing your final lesson
As you recede to the floor
All is silent but the fluttering door
Twenty-five grand on the table
Of the high wall street stable
I'm not responsible for
The reputation of the neighborhood whore
But I'm a keyhole peeker
And you're my surveillance keeper
And though my memory rusts
I will always see the icicle tusk
And I must admit
That it gets lonesome on my shelf
This much I can tell
This much I can tell
