Justin Vernon The Orient. And The Gatsby's Slew Of Choices
couldn't leave well enough alone, you were right, i'm wrong. couldn't leave the well alone, she called me on the phone.
it was just to let a friendly cry. my middle aches, can you make me fly? so many thoughts in so little time, cos' their pain is their crime.
sell my car to the moving man - i'm the sea and you're japan. no great morning, no rising sun. no gatsby in me i'm running from.
like a whisper in a lonely town, you brush it off, but it's so loud. that's your ticker, wishing don't give up. this is more than can fill you up. more than this i would ask in turn, minds too busy to stop and learn. slight of hand and a gentle push, the lines of promise turn to crush.
sell my car to the moving man - i'm the sea and you're japan. no great morning, no rising sun. no gatsby in me, i'm running from.
it's funny how the kids rise, and pull on my disguise. they are warped outside and in. what's my muse? it's their sin. walking backwards face-first into my past, as i refuse to be lied against. i am a well dressed man in a larger house; it's so quiet.
sell my car to the moving man - i'm the sea and you're japan. no great morning, no rising sun. no gatsby in me, i'm running from.
