| All the tables nice and clean
|
| Evelyn’s asleep
|
| On the grave yard shift again
|
| Selling gasoline
|
| And there’s kids smoking on south first
|
| See high school was just a blur, to her
|
| And everything just found their place it seemed
|
| There’s an old folk song on the radio
|
| Sounding thin and dark and haunted
|
| Theres a bag of weed in the back beneath the books
|
| And she can’t stand the sight of this cul-de-sac
|
| Like an old crow, king of the lamp-post
|
| And this window hasn’t been this clean since it last rained
|
| Well, she pictures up a different day
|
| Driving west to east L. A
|
| And there ain’t no sign of a dime, but hey
|
| Anyone can dream
|
| Anyone can dream
|
| And all the college girls come in when the bars let out and they’re hungry
|
| Making such a mess, Evelyn just talks trash as she’s sweeping up
|
| There’s a thin dark cloud in the evening air
|
| After every sunny day
|
| There’s a bum who lives in the parking lot
|
| Wash the windows just to say hey
|
| All the tables nice and clean
|
| Evelyn’s asleep
|
| On the grave yard shift again
|
| Selling gasoline |