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One, two, one, two, three, four |
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Well, I woke up in mid-afternoon |
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'Cause that's when it all hurts the most |
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I dream, I never know anyone at the party |
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And I'm always the host |
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If dreams are like movies |
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Then memories are films about ghosts |
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You can never escape |
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You can only move south, down the coast |
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Well, I am an idiot walkin' |
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A tightrope of fortune and fame |
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I am an acrobat swingin' trapezes |
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Through circles of flame |
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If you've never stared off in to the distance |
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Then your life is a shame |
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And though I'll never forget your face |
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Sometimes, I can't remember my name |
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Hey, Mrs. Potter don't cry |
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Hey, Mrs. Potter I know why but |
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Hey, Mrs. Potter won't you talk to me |
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Well, there's a piece of Maria |
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In every song that I sing |
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And the price of a memory |
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Is the memory of the sorrow it brings |
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And there is always one last light |
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To turn out and one last bell to ring |
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And the last one out of the circus |
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Has to lock up everything |
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Or the elephants will get out |
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And forget to remember what you said |
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And when the ghosts of the tilt-a-whirl |
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Will linger inside of your head |
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And when the Ferris wheel junkies |
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Will spin there forever instead |
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When I see you, a blanket of stars |
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Covers me in my bed |
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Hey, Mrs. Potter don't go |
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I said,"Hey Mrs. Potter I don't know" |
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But, hey, Mrs. Potter won't you talk to me |
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All the blue light reflections |
|
That color my mind when I sleep |
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And the lovesick rejections |
|
That accompany the company I keep |
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All the razor perceptions |
|
That cut just a little too deep |
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Hey, I can bleed as well as anyone |
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But I need someone to help me sleep |
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And so, I throw my hand into the air |
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And it swims in the beams |
|
It's just a brief interruption |
|
Of the swirlin' dust sparkle, jet stream |
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Well, I know I don't know you |
|
And you're probably not what you seem |
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Oh, but I'd sure like to find out |
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So why don't you climb down off that movie screen |
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Hey, Mrs. Potter don't turn |
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Hey, Mrs. Potter I burn for you |
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Hey, Mrs. Potter won't you talk to me |
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When the last king of Hollywood |
|
Shatters his glass on the floor and orders another |
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Well, I wonder what he did that for |
|
That's when I know that I have to get out |
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'Cause I have been there before |
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So I gave up my seat at the bar and I head for the door, yeah |
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We drove out to the desert |
|
Just to lie down beneath this bowl of stars |
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We stand up in the palace |
|
Like it's the last of the great pioneer town bars |
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Oh we shout out these songs against |
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The clang of electric guitars |
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Yeah, you can see a million miles tonight |
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But you can't get very far |
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Oh, you can see a million miles tonight |
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But you can't get very far |
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Hey, Mrs. Potter I won't touch and |
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Hey, Mrs. Potter it's not much but |
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Hey, Mrs. Potter won't you talk to me |
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Hey, Mrs. Potter won't you talk to me |
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Hey, Mrs. Potter won't you talk to me |
