Here we sit, you’d a thought
That a bomb made of books and clothes and pocket things
Had blown in my apartment
Me and my guitar
Oh how we’ve gone very far
And now we’re seated at the bar
To drink what she is pouring
Sometimes when she pours me to the top
I think that I might be spilling
Sometimes when I think that she won’t stop
I just hope she doesn’t willing
Armoured yellow pads
No. 2’s and battle plans
All my maps are in my hands
But I’m still lost
Dream in colorfast
Like running past a photograph
Catch the moment if you can
Before it’s gone
Sometimes when she pours me to the top
I think that I might be spilling
Sometimes when I think that she won’t stop
I just hope she does it over and over
