i cant hear a thing

its red wine on a cold night
now i take the train alone
to a place with notes smiles
and mics a place i feel at home
then its back to you and cigarettes
and what you see you might not get
you can give me more but i'll take less
dont tell the rest dont tell the rest
they may not approve
it wont impress
selling out or selling in so hard to tell as the light gets dim
just momentary momentum
as the idle hands write selfish lies
a picnic for our egos, a miasma lullaby
cant move in here theyre screaming! cant hear a thing
pop! its back.. then its out and gone
now 80 years ago you know
you know you never know
so you step your step as the others go with that fashionable flow
in a building in the cold blue theres the man who takes the stairs
out of breath a bulb comes on as he realizes ..........that sometimes........sometimes the flow doesnt go anywhere

pullie