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I knew the shredder |
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When he used to hang at the park |
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In the late afternoon |
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I never talked to him |
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I only watched while he tear |
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Turns out the ground |
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Or whatever's around |
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All his wheels would slide out |
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But he'd stay cool |
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I knew the guy that they once |
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Called the shredder it's true |
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And I watched the day fade |
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On the ramp that we made |
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And I asked myself |
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Where should I go now |
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A new wave has dawned |
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And the novelty's gone |
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So I'm told |
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And what kind of turn |
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Would I now need to learn |
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To keep up when I'm feeling |
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So slowed down |
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I might feel better |
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If I knew the shredder felt old |
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But I see the sunset |
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On the lump that I get |
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In my throat |
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That I get when I try to tell |
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A story it grows |
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Like a parking lot goes on the ground |
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And if the shredder's still shredding |
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I feel like forgetting |
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I ate his dust long ago |
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He may remember |
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But somehow I doubt |
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That he knows |
