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All the tables nice and clean |
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Evelyn's asleep |
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On the graveyard shift again |
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Selling gasoline |
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And there's kids smoking on south first |
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See high-school was just a blur, to her |
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And everything just found their place it seemed |
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There's an old folk song on the radio |
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Sounding thin and dark and haunted |
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There's a bag of weed in the back beneath the books |
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And she can't stand the sight of this cul-de-sac |
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Like an old crow, king of the lamp-post |
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And this window hasn't been this clean since it last rained |
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Well she pictures up a different day |
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Driving west to east L.A. |
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And there ain't no sign of a dime, but hey |
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Anyone can dream...anyone can dream |
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And all the college girls come in when the bars let out and they're hungry |
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Making such a mess, Evelyn just talks trash, as she's sweeping up |
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There's a thin dark cloud in the evening air |
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After every sunny day |
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There's a bum who lives in the parking lot |
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Wash the windows just to say hey |
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|
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All the table nice and clean |
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Evelyn's asleep |
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On the graveyard shift again |
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Selling gasoline |
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*alien* |
