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Snow piled on tables, up on scales, into bags |
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Late night beer and smoke |
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Too sleepy and awake |
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Two sleepy and awake |
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Crazy eyes over eggs, crazy eyes like mine |
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Clothes from a street cart, too much beer for the time |
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At hand |
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Night time passed by me again |
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Phone calls that should never be made |
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Phone calls that speed last night into today |
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So, where will you be in ten years? |
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This is the part where you don't stay right here |
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Smoking pain's a pang beneath the left ribcage |
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Gasping idle breathing, burning to these thoughts of leaving |
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Was it cold hands gripping fears |
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Of being all alone |
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In the world? |
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When I got there, I'm choking in my sleep |
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Fostered aching tension, demented bruised inventions |
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Unbelievable, burnt out and seasonal |
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And I've been saying this for years |
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Packing bags, not cleaning all of last night's empty beers |
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A war of words waged by the faithless |
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Screaming in deep sleep, unjustifiable stagnation |
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So where will I be in ten years? |
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Hopefully I won't be here |
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Where will you be in ten years? |
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Nose and eyes betray |
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Where will I be in ten years? |
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You never did believe me |
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Where will we be in ten years? |
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Under my own skin |
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This is the part where you don't say |
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This is the part where you don't stay |
