Because You Are The Very Air He Breathes - Lambchop

Dust moves off his arms and chest 
As the vent window opens in his volkswagen 
Hundreds of impalas and stationwagons 
Idle at the train crossing 
The puddles that surround him 
Are always made from sweat 
The open sore on his face reminds him 
That his blood is simply temporary 

The gas is blowing in the trees 
One whiff has brought me to my knees 
At first you practice, practice to yourself 
You are the very air, you are the very air 
You are the very air he breathes 

His head throbs and fills 
With a big machine bag 
I must be the richest man 
To ever stand in line at the bank 

The gas is blowing in the trees 
One whiff has brought me to my knees 
At first you practice, practice to yourself 
You are the very air, you are the very air 
You are the very air he breathes