|
We're caught in a landslide, the minutes come tumbling down |
|
And into an hour's time, within which a day's worth of work |
|
Must be planned out and pan out for every week to be worth |
|
The weekends of downtime and months of an ennui that kills |
|
And years of resentment |
|
Of everyone's contentment and you |
|
Can't justify it still |
|
I tell you my reasons, you don't tell me your inside jokes |
|
Until I've gone bitter on every word that you've spoken |
|
And all of your kind words amounting to naught but a token |
|
And all their inaction will tumble away with the days |
|
And nights of together |
|
As we're really not together at all |
|
But parallel |
|
Now I'm walking on downtown in a town that is not my home |
|
And shopping for breakfast to be eaten all alone |
|
And dreaming of houses, none of them that I own |
|
But that's not my province, that's not for what I am known |
|
So I gather around me all the little pieces of a song |
|
And fit them where they belong |
|
So go to your downtown and bring what you've brought back home |
|
You never should worry, your hours will now be as long |
|
As the days that you hurried and months when it all seemed wrong |
|
In all of the action will tumble away with the years |
|
And parallel evenings |
|
And parallel tracks of our tears |
|
And nights of together are where? |
|
So I gather around me all the little pieces of a song |
|
And fit them where they belong |
|
And fit them where they belong |
|
And fit them where they belong |
|
And fit them where they belong |
|
And fit them where they belong |
|
And fit them where they belong |
|
And fit them where they belong |
|
And fit them where they belong |
|
And fit them where they belong |
