I don’t have any more grand gestures in me.
Someone used those up a while back.
Still got that string of romance runnin’ through,
but it’s tempered by that hallowed drum solo:
the end of Styrofoam Boots/It’s All Nice On Ice Alright.
‘n darlin’, when those symbols start in’,
that snare catchin’ the stick,
and the way that the track trips,
no grand gestures,
just this deep felt need for chill.
Darlin’, I don’t want European get aways,
ain’t lookin’ for last minute saves,
just lookin’ for someone who’ll talk for days,
who don’t mine when we turn my bedding to caves.
‘n I know, I know, all that fades…
