With a bottle in my hand
and no throttle in my van,
like a man without a purpose or a plan …
With my head all full of stuff,
I’m feeling wrecked, I’m feeling rough.
Calling your bluff, saying, “Hey now, that’s enough.”
Don’t even bother.
Don’t even try.
I’m not your friend, your fool or father.
I’m just a guy saying goodbye.
With all the debts I never paid.
With all the fun that they forbad.
Well, let’s trade our best memories before they fade.
With a sword stuck in a stone.
With all my best thoughts out on loan.
Hear that wind moan – so dramatic, so overblown.
Chorus
When you wake up at midnight sometimes.
You can hear all kinds of voices out the window, in the pines.
I should know, dear, I’ve been there; I’ve heard those voices too.
Now they can speak for me; I have no words left for you.
Screen door slams, dog jumps up.
Onto the table, spills the nuts
and in my gut, I got this feeling: I’m kind of stuck.