1, 2, 1, 2, 3...
Know a man, his face seems pulled and tense
Like he’s riding on a motorbike in the strongest winds
So I approach with tact, suggest that he should relax
But he’s always moving much too fast
Said he’ll see me on the flipside
On this trip he’s taken for a ride
He’s been taking too much on ...
There he goes with his perfectly unkept clothes
There he goes...
He’s yet to come back, but I see his picture
Doesn’t look the same up on the rack
We go way back
I wonder about his insides
It’s like his thoughts are too big for his size
He’s been taken, where, I don’t know?
Off he goes with his perfectly unkept clothes
And there he goes...
And now I rub my eyes, for he has returned!
Seems my preconceptions are what should have been burned
For he still smiles, and he’s still strong
Nothing’s changed, but the surrounding bullshit
That has grown
And now he’s home, and we’re laughing like we always did
My same old, same old friend
Until a quarter-to-ten
I saw the strain creep in
He seemed distracted and I know just what is gonna happen next
Before his first step, he’s off again |
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