LYRIC

You with the camera
Backpack and walking shoes
Taking pictures of garbage cans
This is were people live
Busted authentic
And torn bits of canvas
Soiled as the selling point
Selling like cigarettes
Her with her arms crossed
Still nervous but up for it
Not sure what she's looking for
She likes it on TV shows
Taxis and traffic
And smokes on the sidewalk
Fire escape flowerpots
The sameness in Irish bars
Audition adults
With airplanes and different foods
The wine with the bottle cap
Black leather shoes
You with the shoulder bag
The coffee and the office job
You with the bicycle
And her with the blues

Your sister in Texas now
Husband a dughter now
Your cousin in Boston
Puts ads on TV
You close your eyes
As you ride along Riverside
Daring the world
To knock out your teeth
You read about restaurants
You see what the films are like
You try out the books you should
The music and TV shows
And you get the feeling
That you're missing on something
The people at parties
The things you don't know
You stay in Koreatown
It's too much for what it is
The stench from the streets
Lets itself in your room
You with the shoulder bag
You with the big ideas
You with the subway map
And her with the blues

Her with the blues
Her with the blues
Her with the blues

Now look at this guy
With the backpack and walking shoes
Taking pictures of garbage cans
This is where people live
Busted authentic
And torn bits of canvas
You with the restlessness
And her with the blues

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