
Temporal deadzone where clocks are barely breathing.
yet no one cares to notice for all the yelling, all night clamor to hold it together.
I want to play--don't wait--forms in the hideaway
I want to get on with getting on with things
I want to run in fields, paint the kitchen, and love someone
And I can't do any of that here, can I?
First train home, I've got to get on it.
First train home, I've got to get on it.
First train home, I've got to get on it.
First Train home.
So what? You've had one too many.
So what? I'm not that much fun to be with.
So what? You've got a silly hat on.
So what? I didn't want to come here, anyway.
What matters you, doesn't matter, matter to me.
What matters to me, doesn't matter, matter to you.
What matters to you, doesn't matter, matter to them.
What matters to them, doesn't change anything.
Got to get on it.
First train home.
Got to get on it.
First train home.
Hon säger det så bra. Den underbara rösten är bara en bonus, även om den är så bra att man dör. Tyngden ligger ändå i texten, här.















