Odd Jobs Songtext / Lyric

The rug ripped up in cloth popcorn balls

the walls an old candy striped sack

in the corner wrinkled black and white

a table held up by legs

the peeled back red enamelled mouth of linoleum screamed

at the pasteboard door

a knob rolled off in some corner sticky

a curtain blew into a sink

dead flies and newspapers

charred fire brown wings and toast

Hobo ain't been around for some time

the gate danced without its paint on

Odd jobs is written on

spiders were the window's eyes

the sun made them look silver

the little girl from in back of the clothesline

cast a shadow like a crow

it's beak spoke open

why doesn't old Odd Jobs come around anymore

he used to ride his form-a-heap bike

and his basket was a whole candy store

he used t'make Xs from door to door

all the women and the young girls around here

ask why old Jobs don't come on home

and the gate without its paint on danced

and creaked and moaned

here he comes peddlin' up on his form-a-heap bike

a bag of skin and bones

spokes were scraping two rust fenders