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Under some dirty words on a dirty wall |
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Eating takeout by myself I play the shows |
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Got back in the van and put the Walkman on |
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And you were playing |
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In some other dive a thousand miles away |
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I played a thousand times before |
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And like pathetic stars, the truck stops |
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And the rock club walls, I always knew |
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You saw them too but you never will again |
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It's too late |
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Don't you know |
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It's been too late |
|
For a long time |
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Elliott, man, you played a fine guitar |
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And some dirty basketball |
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The songs you wrote |
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Got me through a lot |
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Just wanna tell you that |
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But it's too late |
|
It's too late |
|
Don't you know |
|
It's been too late |
|
For a long time |
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No, no |
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Things were looking up |
|
Least that's what I heard |
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No, no |
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Someone came and washed |
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Away your hard earned |
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Piece of mind |
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When desperate static |
|
Beats the silence up |
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A quiet truth to calm you down |
|
The songs you wrote |
|
Got me through a lot |
|
Just wanna tell ya |
|
Oh, but it's too late |
|
It's too late |
|
Don't you know? |
|
It's been too late |
|
For a long time |
