Heuser/Pierce
A dying autumn vine hangs outside my dirty window,
The gentle clouds block the fiery sky.
I wander down the staircase, grab my coat and take a walk.
I'll catch the last taste of setting sun.
And I'm still a little high from my afternoon alone,
If I think too much I'll ruin my day.
I stop to take a rest and hear the dark Potomac whine,
But the song I couldn't finish fills my head.
"La da da da da da da da"
A homeless city busker strums an out of tune guitar,
He lets his weathered words fall where they land
I drop him a dollar, zip my coat and leave him there,
Careful not to show my turning head
And all his stumbling breaths die in the open air
And all his stories might as well be stone
And though I sit alone now on the short side of the pane
I hum a tune that won't hold me long
"La da da da da da da"
I can't think of many things I'd do over
And I seem pretty cool in my head.
I've always been amazed by what's around me
And I know I'll be alright in the end
I find myself a padded seat on which I'll be cemented
I'm sober and I'm tired and I'm done
My eyes can't seem to focus and my fingers start to drip
And everything around me tastes like sand
And some crowds smile with their faith up in the clouds
And others search the pavement just ahead
But the symphony of movers and their city-sidewalk stomps
Never once made me nod my head
"La da da da da da da"