She asked 'hows Seattle' in some motherly talk Its okay, its mostly grey I think I'm just leveling off And sometimes I think I'm running around Like a dog with no song No song And Im following some flickering lamp In the fog, the fog I know, I know, that I'm getting older I don't think they really like me If I could just stay a little longer They might be giving up new greys Think back, to the time we drove To Park Slope for a walk It's okay, it's far away I just think i'm measuring ours And sometimes I think you're writing this down For the songs, the songs, the songs And it's something that you don't really feel But it's ours, it's ours, it's ours