Sometimes the world sings hard like concrete
It ain’t easy to listen when you’re staring at your feet
Like old Tom Waits after a long night of revelry
Dustbowl overtures and gravel pit harmony
Sometimes the world sings sweet and slow
Like a full-bellied bumblebee buzzing a secret you’ll never know
And it’s hard to wait for a freightliner full of bliss
But you can stay all night in a patient goodbye kiss
And the world is a whistle of a bullet going by
It’s a New York minute, it’s a New Mexico sky
It’s the thing you didn’t get to, and what you’ve done for far too long
It’s the volume of an image, it’s the vision in a song
Sometimes the world sings soft like a feather bed
Like a moonlit melody contra-dancing in your head
And you’ve got to stare into her eyes, swinging around and around
Or you may get dizzy, you might fall right on down
And the world is a whistle of a bullet going by
It’s a New York minute, it’s a New Mexico sky
It’s the thing you didn’t get to, and what you’ve done for far too long
It’s the volume of an image, it’s the vision in a song
(Davis/Allen) |