Exit Counts

(one, two, three...)

A borrowed lighter from a hand I didn't know

Underneath the corner store light's yellow glow

A tourist stopped me,

asking where the river flows

At two a.m. while the cold wind blows

Outside your door, I count the exits in the hall

My hand is hovering,

but I don't knock at all (no,

I don't knock)

Sticky sweet, but it tastes so sour Counting down the exits at

the final hour

Yeah, we're standing on the edge of the spark Two a.m.

and we're lost in the dark

Your apartment door is heavy and it's cold

Stories that we never should have told

I'm flicking sparks, watching them die Underneath the heavy city sky

Sticky sweet, but it tastes so sour Counting down the exits at

the final hour

Yeah, we're standing on the edge of the

spark Two a.m. and we're lost in the dark