"Prairie Dog Town" lyrics - BRUCE HORNSBY

BRUCE HORNSBY
"Prairie Dog Town"

Poppin' up, poppin' down
Burrowing, making their funny little sounds
Guarding the ground and rooting all around
Watch your dry bones in the prairie dog town

Teddy Roosevelt said come quick
There's a phenomenon and I'm in the thick of it
Riding around the badlands range
They came upon those creatures so strange

They're so small, they couldn't hurt you
Just like they said about Napoleon too
Oh, so cute, they're sneaking around
Hiding the crimes 'round the prairie dog town
They lay in wait 'neath the Dakota moon
For the chance to make you their next victim soon

Poppin' up, poppin' down
Burrowing, making their funny little sounds
Guarding the ground and rooting all around
Watch your dry bones in the prairie dog town

Went to a party at the prairie dog town
Hills and holes and manicured grounds
Gaiety and chattering was in the air
While grinning teeth waited to bite you there

Small of mind better watch your back
Need rapid-moving eyes just to keep track
Behind the Bush he makes the gut strings wail
You can't judge a dog by the wag of its tail

Poppin' up, poppin' down
Burrowing, making their funny little sounds
Guarding the ground and rooting all around
Watch your dry bones in the prairie dog town

Don't put your trust in a prairie dog
They'll rob you back and steal your drawers
Stay in your car behind the glass
Or you might get some big sharp teeth in that ass

Disregard the great ethical truths
It's the collective life of the herd for you
Closed society, no open door policy
Collectivist secretive ideology
Utilitarian sublimation of individual identities
Suppression of dissidents
Communal living country club victory
For him and her and she and he

Poppin' up, poppin' down
Burrowing, making their funny little sounds
Guarding the ground and rooting all around
Watch your dry bones in the prairie dog town

Poppin' up, poppin' down
Burrowing, making their funny little sounds
Guarding the ground and rooting all around
Watch your dry bones in the prairie dog town

All them cows steppin' in the host
...
The rose grows sick from the dark love of the worm
That finds its way to her crimson bed
And twists and turns
And burrows and burns