Everybodyfields Magazines
two days and my money's spent
i can't tell you just where i've been
i only gamble when i steal
but i like the way it feels
my hands still smell like a magazine
i keep having the same old dream
everything is what it seems
something's wrong and i'm off to sleep
white knuckles on a baseball bat
i know just where i'm at
sun shone like david copperfield
daddy, tell me it's not real
two feet, knee-deep in doubt
around the bases and at home i'm out
but if you're never home i doubt
that you will ever see me out
parking lot is a hiding place
'cause under the cars you can't see my face
