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Bright Eyes Digital Ash In A Digital Urn Gold Mine Gutted It was Don Dellilo, whiskey neat and a blinking midnight clock. Speakers on a TV stand, just a turnable to watch. Only smoke came out our mouths on all those hooded-sweatshirt walks. We were a stroke of luck. We were a gold mine that gutted us. And from the sidelines, you see me run, until I'm out of breath. Living the good life i left for dead, the sorrowful midwest. I did my best, to keep my head. It was grass-stained jeans and incompletes and a girl from class to touch. But you think about yourself too much and you ruin who you love. All those claims at consciousness, my stray dog freedom. Let's have a nice clean cut,like a bag we buy and divvy up. From the sidelines i see you run, until you're out of breath. And all those white lines that sped us up. We hurry to our deaths. Well I lagged behind, so you got ahead. |
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