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Well, I'm lost, I'm a frayed |
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Rope tying down a leaky boat |
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To the roof of a car on a road in the dark |
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And it's snowing |
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If I'm more, then it means less |
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Last call for happiness |
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I'm your dress near the back of your knees |
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And your slip is showing |
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I'm a float in a summer parade |
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Up the street in the town that you were born in |
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With a girl at the top wearing tulle |
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And a Miss Somewhere sash, waving like the queen |
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Well beauty's just another word I'm never certain how to spell |
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Go tell the nurse to turn the TV back on |
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And throw away my misery, it never meant that much to me |
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It never sent a get-well card |
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And I broke, like a bad joke somebody's uncle told |
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At a wedding reception in 1972 |
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Where a little boy under a table with cake in his hair |
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Stared at the grown-up feet as they danced and swayed |
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And his father laughed and talked on the long ride home |
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And his mother laughed and talked on the long ride home |
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And he thought about how everyone dies someday |
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And when tomorrow gets here, where will yesterday be? |
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And fell asleep in his brand new winter coat |
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Buy me a shiny new machine that runs on lies and gasoline |
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And all those batteries we stole from smoke alarms |
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And disassembles my despair, it never took me anywhere |
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It never once bought me a drink |
