Bus on a Monday, the human press
You see your house on the hill
Trying to climb where others just float
Can’t believe they believe that shit still
Wandering the pockets of your pinstripe suit
While the bus lunges past burning glass
A memorial card with a photo and a psalm
Reminds you when you wore it last
Ooh, nobody could walk through this heat so cool
And one day this street will be named after you
Today is a page in your biography
Today is a page in your biography
Sometimes with the sadness of a ramshackle truck
Carrying somebody’s bed in the rain
The architects were planning for riots
The artist was dreaming of a train
There goes Jazmine in her bandaged hand
Where her dog bit her right to the bone
You used to walk her home three years ago
Now she walks alone
And you better learn to love this feeling
‘Cause help’s not on the way
You’re pushed out to the edge
And there’s no time
Young and unsung and constantly bringing
And shadowed by ghosts, how long?
The afternoon orange soda light
Drips off the burning glass

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN