you - find me - in fragments.
telling you to kick the couch,
don't go down without a cap,
that old sky won't wonder why.
those were the days!
before the bodega burned down,
before Kayle got deported.
listen to the reminiscing outside night,
snowflakes tapping the window
telling you to remember the fine gone green road.
like I said before, music and smells are time machines.
those were the nights!
in which we couldn't decide to talk,
and we couldn't decide between gin and coffee.
listen to the evil scraping joy,
telling you to see the piano for what it's worth,
another night of that sweet rock-n-roll,
inside, seeing, out of the snow.