Ben Gibbard - Gridlock Caravans lyrics

Starched white shirts, so neatly pressed by domestic muses Feed delusions that everything is working out right But your ribs can't withstand increasing weight As your heart gets heavier and sooner or later It falls to the tips of your toes And every day tastes like inhaling When you just lit the wrong end (that plastic burning scent) Your only friends are on the exit ramps of gridlock caravans You try to ask how they've been But the metal and gla** is too thick