Из альбома: Limbeck

I wound up in a cold, dark, lonely forest

With trees so high they nearly disappeared


In the sky a small bird was flying around

The leaves on the trees were falling



I felt as though that bird seemed quite familiar

I remembered that his name was "Parking Lot"

Me and that bird fell beneath a tree in the snow

And died several years ago



All my friends came calling

Thinking that I'd gone lost

All of them were searching

For me and Parking Lot



We left for a house up on the hillside

With broken stairs and graffiti on the walls

The kid, that's where he lived, wrote for a magazine

And we all stood outside talking

The owner was a man from Texas

Who had left the place and brought his family

The kid extended an invitation to me

To stay for as long as I needed



After a few years the man got homesick

He moved back in and started cleaning up

And even though I was never lost with Parking Lot

I was glad to have friends who'd come find me



When all my friends came calling

Thinking that I had gone lost

I was simply sleeping

In a parking lot

When all my friends came searching

Looking for my ghost

I was lost inside a dream

In a parking lot

Комментарии