You're sitting in front of me
Our bus isn't coming
I think I'm going blind
Or is everything losing its color
I made it clear to you
My sleep is restless
My heart is divided
Quarters, halves, & eighths
I'm in love with this feeling
This invisible feeling.
What I wanted to say
Would have sounded all wrong
In that crazy pitch of my
Pidgin stammering knotted tongue
I'm used to it, this city
The smell of it, the gray dust of it
I know that's rain coming
To wash it over
Clean it away
I'm used to it, this feeling
The comforting, the reviling
I'm used to it, this city
The comforting, the reviling
