[00:02.085] Yeah
[00:03.346] Off track, betting at the tavern
[00:05.660] Gotta learn you what really gon’ matter
[00:08.582] Ash the urn and it gon’ return her to Saturn
[00:13.199] Yeah
[00:14.809] Yeah
[00:21.512] Yeah
[00:22.395] Arrive five years older, three years late
[00:25.660] Salt and pepper smolder, California sober
[00:28.532] Looking for closure, couldn’t get it through a steel gate
[00:31.527] Should’ve known that I wasn’t getting any closer
[00:34.093] Never knew a February like his shoulder
[00:36.341] Lesson is a lesson every loss, but turn on investment
[00:39.139] Try to break tension
[00:40.595] Could only muster
[00:41.817] “Mind if I say it?”, “Nah”
[00:42.943] You don’t really gotta move on over here
[00:45.506] Going back
[00:46.318] Ten years prior the streetcars lit a-fire
[00:49.322] And bodies dizzy with desire, liar liar
[00:51.589] Tend to flip for the pyre, in a pile
[00:53.094] Let it spiral
[00:54.561] Anxious laugh said with a smile
[00:57.305] Searching for a place to be, offroad
[00:59.607] With the grapes of laugh, mistakenly
[01:01.554] Made the gaff, misplacing keys
[01:03.214] Crossroads and wounded hearts
[01:04.959] They hang signs of vacancy
[01:06.345] Wasn’t “Need to know”
[01:07.622] The approach was rather “Wait and see”
[01:09.135] Omniscient speaker groans
[01:10.772] Foolish lips request “Away from me”
[01:13.102] Pursed together ever tastefully
[01:14.948] We severed bonds, merged and tether
[01:16.747] But far from gracefully
[01:17.808] Fate forced the hand like
[01:19.348] You ever felt robbed of agency?
[01:21.534] Unbalanced ledger tell it plainly
[01:23.523] In language we can understand but strange to read
[01:26.384] Pain exists and drifts in latency
[01:28.384] Yet to be aborted, reservations with the maître d'
[01:31.496] Party of two, and last words famously
[01:33.709] I suppose it just ain’t to be
[01:35.663] And peeling paint from the mural cautiously, faithfully
[01:39.317] Ashamed to see
[01:40.404] It’s not the way that it sits
[01:41.906] It’s the chips and the flakes for me
[01:45.892] Your words had hung like the shows I done
[01:48.198] The soil let it spoil but the prose had sprung
[01:51.148] March to the beat of our chosen drum
[01:53.883] And all roads lead back to the toes I’d run
[01:56.771] Your words had hung like the shows I’d done
[01:59.474] The soil let it spoil but the prose had sprung
[02:02.421] March to the beat of our chosen drum
[02:05.706] For all my clever words, in the end I had none

Yeah
Off track, betting at the tavern
Gotta learn you what really gon’ matter
Ash the urn and it gon’ return her to Saturn
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Arrive five years older, three years late
Salt and pepper smolder, California sober
Looking for closure, couldn’t get it through a steel gate
Should’ve known that I wasn’t getting any closer
Never knew a February like his shoulder
Lesson is a lesson every loss, but turn on investment
Try to break tension
Could only muster
“Mind if I say it?”, “Nah”
You don’t really gotta move on over here
Going back
Ten years prior the streetcars lit a-fire
And bodies dizzy with desire, liar liar
Tend to flip for the pyre, in a pile
Let it spiral
Anxious laugh said with a smile
Searching for a place to be, offroad
With the grapes of laugh, mistakenly
Made the gaff, misplacing keys
Crossroads and wounded hearts
They hang signs of vacancy
Wasn’t “Need to know”
The approach was rather “Wait and see”
Omniscient speaker groans
Foolish lips request “Away from me”
Pursed together ever tastefully
We severed bonds, merged and tether
But far from gracefully
Fate forced the hand like
You ever felt robbed of agency?
Unbalanced ledger tell it plainly
In language we can understand but strange to read
Pain exists and drifts in latency
Yet to be aborted, reservations with the maître d'
Party of two, and last words famously
I suppose it just ain’t to be
And peeling paint from the mural cautiously, faithfully
Ashamed to see
It’s not the way that it sits
It’s the chips and the flakes for me
Your words had hung like the shows I done
The soil let it spoil but the prose had sprung
March to the beat of our chosen drum
And all roads lead back to the toes I’d run
Your words had hung like the shows I’d done
The soil let it spoil but the prose had sprung
March to the beat of our chosen drum
For all my clever words, in the end I had none