The Postal Service

The District Sleeps Alone Tonight Smeared black ink... your palms are sweaty And I'm barely listening to last demands I'm staring at the asphalt wondering what's buried underneath Where I am Where I am I'll wear my badge... A vinyl sticker with big b

I am thinking it's a sign That the freckles in our eyes Are mirror images and When we kiss they're perfectly aligned And I have to speculate That God Himself did make Us into corresponding shapes Like puzzle pieces from the clay And true it may seem

I'll be the grapes fermented, Bottled and served with the table set in my finest suit Like a perfect gentlemen I'll be the fire escape that's bolted to the ancient brick Where you will sit and contemplate your day I'll be the waterwings that save you

We drained every dime In the lower Eastside And you failed to catch the train Back to Queens So you came to my room We did some things That we knew not to do In the glow of the nights golden hue [Chorus 1] You've got the tattered line of string And y

last week I had the strangest dream that everything was exactly how it seemed where there was never any mystery of who shot john f. kennedy it was just a man with something to prove slightly bored and severly confused he steadied his rifle with his t

This place is a prison And these people aren't your friends Inhaling thrills through $20 bills And the tumblers are drained and then flooded again And again Ther're guards at the on ramps armed to the teeth And you may case the grounds from the casca

I've got a cupboard with cans of food, filtered water, And pictures of you and i'm not coming out Until this is all over And i'm looking through the glass where the light bends At the cracks And i'm screaming at the top of my lungs pretending The ech