You shove your way
|
Through the room from the street
|
And finally to me
|
You ask me what I'm drinking
|
|
My friend Johnny
|
Tugging on my sleeve
|
Asks if I wanna leave
|
But what I'm really thinking is
|
|
Why can't it be easy, easy?
|
Why don't you leave
|
Leave me, leave me be?
|
|
I can see you swaying
|
I can't hear what you're saying
|
|
I'm sitting here stuck
|
And plastered to my seat
|
I think up a reason to leave
|
When you finally stop speaking
|
|
I'll take a long slow
|
Walk down Washington Street
|
Half asleep on my feet
|
Half aware if I'm dreaming
|
|
I'll go home alone, a sinking stone
|
A switched off telephone
|
I'll go on, be free, a frozen breeze
|
A fallen down factory
|
|
But I still see you swaying
|
And I can't hear what you're saying
|
|
I just lost the plot, got a little caught
|
In a little knot
|
I just hit a wall had a little fall
|
Felt the swinging wrecking ball
|
|
And why should that be?
|
Why don't you tell me?
|
Why don't you tell me?
|
I'm sure you'll tell me
|
Why don't you tell me?
|
I guess you'll tell me, tell me
|
|
-----------------
|
Stuck
|
| Norah Jones |
