| Song | The Troubadour |
| Artist | A.C. Newman |
| Album | Shut Down the Streets |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| You walk the broken stones alone, | |
| Sunlight calculates its form, | |
| Some quick shadow you didn’t want, | |
| Ideas spinning in your arms. | |
| Could it be we won | |
| And all the various wraps of promise have been verged | |
| The troubadour is here, you heard, | |
| The youngest son alive, it’s first, | |
| About to learn, about to burst. | |
| I’m still turning from the worst. | |
| Going right to your flight, | |
| It was too late one night, | |
| Stop me at the door, stop me at the door | |
| Too late to be what you were just before. | |
| Stop me at the door, stop me at the door, | |
| Or you couldn’t know that you’ve been there before. | |
| The trap being reckless since he failed, | |
| Hold lock gold a certain trail, | |
| The lesson’s taken all away, | |
| Been all and counting what you may. | |
| And there’s nothing left been paid, | |
| A kid is gone, a kid is gone, | |
| For to one day and makes me smile, | |
| It will take time along the while | |
| The country in is from the old. | |
| You’re flashing, growing old. | |
| Going right to your flight, | |
| It was too late one night, | |
| Stop me at the door, stop me at the door | |
| Too late to be what you were just before. | |
| Stop me at the door, stop me at the door, | |
| Or you couldn’t know that you’ve been there before. | |
| Stop me at the door, stop me at the door | |
| To let you be what you were just before. | |
| Stop me at the door, stop me at the door, | |
| Stop me at the door. | |
| Stop me at the door, stop me at the door, | |
| Stop me at the door. |
| You walk the broken stones alone, | |
| Sunlight calculates its form, | |
| Some quick shadow you didn' t want, | |
| Ideas spinning in your arms. | |
| Could it be we won | |
| And all the various wraps of promise have been verged | |
| The troubadour is here, you heard, | |
| The youngest son alive, it' s first, | |
| About to learn, about to burst. | |
| I' m still turning from the worst. | |
| Going right to your flight, | |
| It was too late one night, | |
| Stop me at the door, stop me at the door | |
| Too late to be what you were just before. | |
| Stop me at the door, stop me at the door, | |
| Or you couldn' t know that you' ve been there before. | |
| The trap being reckless since he failed, | |
| Hold lock gold a certain trail, | |
| The lesson' s taken all away, | |
| Been all and counting what you may. | |
| And there' s nothing left been paid, | |
| A kid is gone, a kid is gone, | |
| For to one day and makes me smile, | |
| It will take time along the while | |
| The country in is from the old. | |
| You' re flashing, growing old. | |
| Going right to your flight, | |
| It was too late one night, | |
| Stop me at the door, stop me at the door | |
| Too late to be what you were just before. | |
| Stop me at the door, stop me at the door, | |
| Or you couldn' t know that you' ve been there before. | |
| Stop me at the door, stop me at the door | |
| To let you be what you were just before. | |
| Stop me at the door, stop me at the door, | |
| Stop me at the door. | |
| Stop me at the door, stop me at the door, | |
| Stop me at the door. |
| You walk the broken stones alone, | |
| Sunlight calculates its form, | |
| Some quick shadow you didn' t want, | |
| Ideas spinning in your arms. | |
| Could it be we won | |
| And all the various wraps of promise have been verged | |
| The troubadour is here, you heard, | |
| The youngest son alive, it' s first, | |
| About to learn, about to burst. | |
| I' m still turning from the worst. | |
| Going right to your flight, | |
| It was too late one night, | |
| Stop me at the door, stop me at the door | |
| Too late to be what you were just before. | |
| Stop me at the door, stop me at the door, | |
| Or you couldn' t know that you' ve been there before. | |
| The trap being reckless since he failed, | |
| Hold lock gold a certain trail, | |
| The lesson' s taken all away, | |
| Been all and counting what you may. | |
| And there' s nothing left been paid, | |
| A kid is gone, a kid is gone, | |
| For to one day and makes me smile, | |
| It will take time along the while | |
| The country in is from the old. | |
| You' re flashing, growing old. | |
| Going right to your flight, | |
| It was too late one night, | |
| Stop me at the door, stop me at the door | |
| Too late to be what you were just before. | |
| Stop me at the door, stop me at the door, | |
| Or you couldn' t know that you' ve been there before. | |
| Stop me at the door, stop me at the door | |
| To let you be what you were just before. | |
| Stop me at the door, stop me at the door, | |
| Stop me at the door. | |
| Stop me at the door, stop me at the door, | |
| Stop me at the door. |