coat-check confessions

(ahhhh) Three songs on the stage,

the opener played

Then crossed out the lines

of the promise he made

We're frozen in place,

in the coat-check line

While the basement bar runs out of time

This line never moves,

the cold air is thick

While the turntable spins

to a dust-heavy click

Yeah, the text has gone dull,

the ink is all dry

Under the low-hanging basement sky

(hmmm) He wrote it again

till the meaning was gone

A safe little tune

to carry us on

Still holding our tickets,

our coats on the rack

We can't go ahead

and we can't turn back

But then someone opens the heavy back door And the draft sweeps

the drafts of his songs to the floor We don't need our

coats, we just step to the street

Leaving the dull words behind in the heat

Leaving the dull words behind...

(ooh, hmmm)