Things are shaping up to be pretty odd.
Little deaths in musical beds
So it seems I’m someone I’ve never met.
You will only hear these elegant crimes,
Fall on your ears from criminal dimes.
They spill un-found from a pretty mouth.
Everybody gets there and every gets there.
Everybody gets their way.
I want to go where everyone goes,
I want to know what everyone knows
I want to go where everyone feels the same
I never said I’d leave the city,
I never said I’d leave this town.
A falling out we won’t tiptoe about
Things have changed for me, and that’s OK.
I feel the same, I’m on my way, and I say…