Like a cloud his fingers explode
|
On the typewriter ribbon, the shadow grows
|
His hearts in a bowl behind the bank
|
And every evening when he get home
|
To make his supper and eat it alone
|
His black shirt cries
|
While his shoes get cold
|
|
It's just a dream he keeps having
|
And it doesnt seem to mean anything
|
And it doesnt seem to mean anything
|
|
One summer, a suicide
|
Another autumn, a travelers guide
|
He hits snooze twice before he dies
|
And every evening when he get home
|
To make his supper and eat it alone
|
His black shirt cries
|
While his shoes get cold
|
|
It's just a dream he keeps having
|
And it doesnt seem to mean anything
|
It's just a dream he keeps having
|
|
He feels lucky to have you here
|
In his kitchen, in your chair
|
Sometimes he forgets that youre even there
|
|
It's just a dream he keeps having
|
And it doesnt seem to mean anything
|
It's just a dream he keeps having
|
It's just a dream
|
And it doesnt seem to mean anything
|
|
-----------------
|
Summer Teeth
|
Wilco |