The film was a bust, but we stayed to the ending
|
Hair all a mussed but your clothes didn't look so bad
|
And back on the street, the rain was descending
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In cold dirty sheets, so under the awning we sat
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And then you hailed yourself a yellow cab
|
|
And I sat for a time by the valets in line
|
And I read what you wrote on the card
|
Above a cowboy you drew a big talk balloon
|
saying "try not to take it so hard"
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but there's this nagging suspicion that won't leave me alone tonight
|
its just that everything I try to do, nothing seems to turn out right
|
|
We laid on our backs and stared at the ceiling
|
Messed with your slacks, but ended up just holding your hand
|
The rain will remain, the tv was telling
|
a drip of the drain as your legs lifted brilliantly bent
|
and fall to resting on the ottoman
|
|
So we turned off the tube and we crawled to your room
|
leaving discarded clothes in our wake
|
and we both had some fun, though I twice bit my tongue
|
and it lasted too long for my taste
|
and there's this nagging suspicion that won't leave me alone tonight
|
its just that everything I try to do, nothing seems to turn out right
|
|
and there's this nagging suspicion that won't leave me alone tonight
|
its just that everything I try to do, nothing seems to turn out right
|
|
A wink and a wave and your off to your family's
|
I sit and watch as the taxis lights distantly fade
|
I guess I always thought it'd end this way
|
|
-----------------
|
Everything I Try To Do, Nothing Seems To Turn Out Right
|
| The Decemberists |
