Two Kids (Living in America)
We're just two kids living in America, going right for the throat.
The thought of hardship fuels our hysteria. We wear our vanity like a coat. The breaking lightning splits our conversation. The silence echoes off the street. Maybe right now is some lukewarm destination, Maybe I'm talking in my sleep. And every heart must eventually come round and every bird must eventually come down. Shake those blues, sweet darling. The streetlight glints off the beer cans in the front lawn. Someone punched a hole in the wicker chair. The summer nighttime begs the rain to move on. You stroke the strands of your blonde hair. And down Neil Avenue the green lights turn to red even though the road is hot and hollow. Your fear of failure keeps your lucid nightmares fed. Well, where are those dreams you're supposed to follow? Every heart must eventually come round and every bird must eventually come down. Shake those blues, sweet darling. Though I've only seen just a few more years, it feels like I've been beaten up for twenty. I'm still deciding if it's my head or heart that steers. As for long nights, well, I've seen plenty. My tired mind wanders off through the hows and whys. Your heart beats with the thunder clapping. Something tells me by the longing in your eyes that something big is gonna happen. And every heart must eventually come round and every bird must eventually come down. Shake those blues, sweet darling. We're just two kids living in America, going right for the throat. |
|