Saturday, October 22, 2005

she must be tired

Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog
where no one notices the contrast of white on white.
And in between the moon and you, the angels get a better view
of the crumbling difference between wrong and right.
I walk in the air between the rain through myself and back again
Where? I don’t know.
Maria says she’s dying, through the door I hear her crying
Why? I don’t know.

Round here we always stand up straight
Round here something radiates

Maria came from Nashville with a suitcase in her hand
She said she’d like to meet a boy who looks like Elvis
She walks along the edge of where the ocean meets the land
Just like she’s walking on a wire in the circus
She parks her car outside of my house
Takes her clothes off
Says she’s close to understanding Jesus

She knows she’s more than just a little misunderstood
She has trouble acting normal when she’s nervous

Round here we’re carving out our names
Round here we all look the same
Round here we talk just like lions
But we sacrifice like lambs
Round here she’s slipping through my hands

Sleeping children better run like the wind
Out of the lightning dream
Mama’s little baby better get herself in
Out of the lightning

She says, it’s only in my head
She says, shhh, I know, it’s only in my head

But the girl on the car in the parking lot says,
"Man, you should try to take a shot.
Can’t you see my walls are crumbling?"
Then she looks up at the building and says she’s thinking of jumping
She says she’s tired of life, she must be tired of something
Round here, she’s always on my mind
Round here, hey, man, got lots of time
Round here we’re never sent to bed early
And nobody makes us wait
Round here we stay up very, very, very, very late
I can’t see nothing, nothing round here
Catch me if I’m falling

- Counting Crows, "Round Here"


Blogger egyptiansally said...

my favorite counting crows song.

2:48 PM  

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