I’ve been watching you for days, tripping over all your games
And I can’t help but understate the reason that you left me strange
What numbers will that old man sing?
His voice reminds me of our sin
Your body outlined on concrete, but all reports of crime are thin
It’s the pivotal form of a thought
Always so anxious to leave what we got
And the weekend thrill of it all
We carry our loved ones until we both fall
Boys are crowding while ladies sing, a rally for the modern king
While future wisdom disagrees with their shifty urgency
What numbers will that old man sing?
His voice reminds me of our sin
Your body outlined on concrete, but all reports of crime are thin
It’s the pivotal form of a thought
Always so anxious to leave what we got
And the weekend thrill of it all
We carry our loved ones until we both fall
Where would we be?
Sitting lake-side with no thought to disagree
Why’s it obscene?
To rely on what could only be a dream