early morning train ride, central coast
|
slipping in and out of a cold dream
|
hey there laura what you waiting for
|
as your room fills up with fish, bugs, spiders, birds
|
fortune teller whispers in my ear
|
¡°hey man,¡± she says ¡°keep your eye on this one¡±
|
when I found you I was on my last legs
|
and when you saw me you had just crashed landed
|
|
and I hope to god that you don¡¯t turn out like me
|
and I¡¯ll pray to god that you don¡¯t turn out like me
|
|
6am bus comes to pick you up
|
bright and early, I¡¯m still counting sheep
|
hey there laura what you waiting for
|
go out and grab life by it¡¯s old neck
|
|
but I hope to god that you don¡¯t turn out like me
|
and I¡¯ll pray to god that you don¡¯t turn out like me
|
|
does it have to be a reoccurring dream
|
you¡¯re a sight to see
|
your soliloquy
|
|
laura¡¯s on the mirror in the dust
|
|
-----------------
|
On The Mirror, In The Dust
|
| The Devoted Few |
