Smeared black ink
|
Your palms are sweaty
|
And I'm barely listening
|
To last demands
|
I'm staring at the asphalt wondering
|
What's buried underneath where I am
|
|
I'll wear my badge
|
A vinyl sticker with big block letters
|
Adherent to my chest
|
That tells your new friends
|
I am a visitor here: I am not permanent
|
And the only thing keeping me dry is where I am
|
|
You seem so out of context
|
In this gaudy apartment complex
|
A stranger with your door key
|
Explaining that I am just visiting
|
And I am finally seeing
|
Why I was the one worth leaving
|
|
D.C. sleeps alone tonight
|
|
You seem so out of context
|
In this gaudy apartment complex
|
A stranger with your door key
|
Explaining that I am just visiting
|
And I finally seeing
|
Why I was the one worth leaving
|
|
The district sleeps alone tonight
|
After the bars turn out their lights
|
And send the autos swerving
|
Into the loneliest evening
|
And I am finally seeing
|
Why I was the one worth leaving
|
|
-----------------
|
The District Sleeps Alone Tonight
|
| Frank Turner |
