From the walls and streets of Astor Place
to the serenity of my saving grace
to the graffiti tattooed on the walls of my mind,
I'm thinking about the better days,
when we fit together in every way,
but these days it seems that feeling's so hard to find.
I'm a long way from home,
and this argument is over,
now I'm hanging up the phone.
Because on and on we sing this song,
pretending that we know its true meaning.
It's a metaphor for the way we are,
speaking our words in tongue,
but the points just seem to evaporate as we go along.
I breathe in the air of memory
as I make my way down this crowded street,
without an image or a care in my head.
The evening breaks, and triggers street lights
under this moon-lit summer sky,
and it paints a portrait of orange and red.
Still, I'm a long way from home,
and to understand this decision,
I'll take this walk alone.
Because on and on we sing this song,
pretending that we know its true meaning.
It's a metaphor for the way we are,
speaking our words in tongue,
but the points just seem to evaporate as we go along