| She’s down in the basement with her new best friend
|
| A skinny kid from the suburbs with an uptown name
|
| Four clumsy chords, then it fades away
|
| I’m stuck at the table but out of the game
|
| I like the way she just sings for the sake of the song
|
| Places the awkward phrases where they belong
|
| Somehow, she knows
|
| From where I sit I can barely hear them talk
|
| Their voices sneak up through the pipes in the walls
|
| I hear the vowels of my name, like from another world
|
| And a song I used to sing when she was a little girl
|
| It sounds so much better than the one I wrote
|
| When I rented a room in the tower of song
|
| All those years ago
|
| When she used to trust me to help her out
|
| Now she trusts someone on the upper floors
|
| I’m the house but there are distant lands
|
| So, I don’t make no claims, she’s got the upper hand
|
| Sixteen years under my wing
|
| Soon my advice won’t be more than my take on things
|
| And I have been worried for way too long
|
| I’m tired of worrying on my own
|
| I leave the record on
|
| She might ask for money
|
| She might ask for a ride
|
| But she’s not going to disappear and die
|
| She’ll be alright |