| David used to be creative
|
| Seeing screens in all our faces
|
| Talking like a kid Scorcese
|
| Making films of kids and pavement
|
| Summer’d always come around
|
| We’d talk about our dreams
|
| We’d talk about the way that running
|
| Gives a respite from depression
|
| But I’m not sayin' I’m the man
|
| To write you a letter
|
| Anonymous
|
| Tonight
|
| Turnin' tables to shield you from our guns
|
| Some things flutter out of focus
|
| David’s changing frame by frame
|
| Hoping Eloise will notice
|
| But the film’s dissolving into grain
|
| David used to be creative
|
| Now he’s trading pills and papers
|
| Hanging out at burn out stables
|
| Coming down half Cain, half Abel
|
| Eloise, she broke his heart
|
| She moved to Tennessee
|
| She moved to somewhere where the climate
|
| Won’t give way to more regression
|
| Now I’m lying in the backyard
|
| With my feet in the air
|
| And I’m thinking about David
|
| But I just can’t seem to care
|
| Now David he’s been dying
|
| He’s been drinking alone
|
| Well I’m not quite the friend
|
| You thought I was all along |