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From hazy days to something real |
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Too far in to walk away, though I think I know the deal |
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I watched her face turn white to red, and then it hit me, she said "I've seen enough |
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I know you're a dying breed" |
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Go to meet Samantha |
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Picture what I've missed the most |
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Her, Garfield Ave, and all the record stores |
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The shady dives we'd haunt as ghosts |
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I draw my coat closed and bound up the stairs 'cause I'm back from the war |
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Feel the fear setting in, can't relate anymore |
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Then I'm met with a note stuck with gum to the door |
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You're not alone, welcome home |
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We dropped into the sofa, the ugly scenes are gone |
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You can't stay mad that long, some brains are just wired wrong |
|
We talk about the weather and the color clouds are lined |
|
You're bored, I'm counting time, I got thirty days behind me |
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Catch a cab on Lyndale |
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Heading downtown past Block E |
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It's all cleaned up, there's no more Moby Dick's |
|
This place ain't what it used to be |
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And yet I'm still me, in from the cold, reminded I'm unhip |
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When my fingers are thawed I'm still losing my grip |
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I keep standing and sitting and thumbing my chip |
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It's heads no, and tails go |
|
We dropped into the sofa, the ugly scenes are gone |
|
You can't stay mad that long, some brains are just wired wrong |
|
We talk about the weather and the color clouds are lined |
|
You're bored, I'm counting time, I got thirty days behind me |
