|
Smeared black ink. |
|
Your palms are sweaty, |
|
and I'm barely listening |
|
to last demands. |
|
I'm staring at the asphalt wondering |
|
What's buried underneath where I am? |
|
(Where I am) |
|
I'll wear my badge: |
|
a vinyl sticker with big block letters |
|
adhered to my chest. |
|
It tells your new friends |
|
I am a visitor here... I am not permanent |
|
And the only thing keeping me dry is... |
|
You seem so out of context, |
|
in this gaudy apartment complex. |
|
A stranger with your door key, |
|
explaining that I'm just visiting. |
|
And I am finally seeing |
|
why I was the one worth leaving. |
|
(I was the one worth leaving) |
|
D.C. sleeps alone tonight. |
|
(Where I am) |
|
You seem so out of context |
|
in this gaudy apartment complex. |
|
(Where I am) |
|
A stranger with your door key |
|
explaining that I'm just visiting. |
|
(Where I am) |
|
And I am finally seeing |
|
why I was the one worth leaving. |
|
(I was the one worth leaving) |
|
(Where I am) |
|
The District sleeps alone tonight |
|
after the bars turn out their lights. |
|
(Where I am) |
|
And send the autos swerving |
|
into the loneliest evening. |
|
(Where I am) |
|
And I am finally seeing |
|
why I was the one worth leaving. |
|
why I was the one worth leaving. |
|
why I was the one worth leaving. |
|
why I was the one worth leaving. |
