Polite Sleeper
Into Loud Talkers
I got this thing for things that make no senseLike on the ride to work in most morningI tell myself to keep your eyes on the roadCause some bridge will open up and we'll just fall right throughWith this fear comes a comfort in routineI know where I'll be when gravity finally comes for meSometimes I drink to thatSometimes I had to medicateSometimes I'm causing troubleSometimes I just go on and fake itBut oh, what have the miles done to me?And with you--oh you--I never question itYou got a thing for things that make no senseI know you now, I knew you back thenWhen I was into loud talkers and you, good lookersWe found a bench, had a picnic off the HudsonI pulled a bottle from deep inside this backpackI said, the buildings are like kingdoms of the casino kindYou pulled the cork and we both drank to thatOh, these paper cups and plastic platesBut oh, it's the first thing to make sense all daySongtexteHope it's not all she wroteI hope, my God, I said it right right nowIn this face I see a history similarIn this past I see nothing but remindersWhen I say things like this I could just sit here all nightWorry about the morning just making no sense
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