| Pack a change of clothes
|
| and a pillow for the road for when we drift off to sleep
|
| Put the sketches and the notes in a box labeled «burn with furniture»
|
| We will watch the fire burn the whole entire house we built down to ashes
|
| From the mirror we’ll admire how the flame quickly retires
|
| we won’t waste no long goodbyes on the smoke or foolish lies
|
| that finally passed us
|
| Let’s find something new to talk about
|
| I’m tired talkin' 'bout myself
|
| I spent my whole life talking to convince everyone
|
| that I was something else
|
| And the part that kinda hurts
|
| is I think it finally worked
|
| and now I’m leaving
|
| I get the feeling things have changed
|
| but the mystery to me
|
| is where and when along the way
|
| did anyone decide that they believed me
|
| I was taught to keep an open-ended life
|
| and never trap myself in nothin'
|
| I was told to keep an open-ended life
|
| and never trap yourself in nothin'
|
| When we settle down in another nowhere town
|
| let’s tell our neighbors
|
| We won’t be here long
|
| and we’ll be quiet but don’t go asking any favors
|
| I can’t stand the unexpected, uninvited visits from too many strangers
|
| My trust has dwindled down
|
| and I can leave here just as abruptly as I came here.
|
| I was taught to keep an open-ended life
|
| and never trap myself in nothin'
|
| I was told to keep an open-ended life
|
| and never trap yourself in nothin' |