Prodigals Chelsea 3am
Annie's sitting there at the corner of the bar.
It's the barman's observation, "She looked better from
afar."
There's a man sits down nearby, she asks him for a light,
While the muted television sings the story of the night.
So he passes her his lighter, and she lights her
cigarette,
He smiles at her politely and he wishes her the best.
She might grope for conversation, but a smoke will do
instead,
So she holds her conversation with the echo in her head.
There's nothing I believe in, and there's nothing left to
say,
As I sit here at the table and I drink the night away,
And tomorrow may be better, tomorrow is okay,
Tomorrow's still tomorrow, and I'm stuck here in today.
I'm driving in distraction, inside, outside my head
And my thoughts are living things made of shadows of the
dead,
Tessellating patterns in an endless ricochet
Collide, kaleidoscope turns and I can't turn away.
It's the right way, it's the wrong way, it's the stone
and it's the knife,
It's the origami folding and unfolding of my life
And the beauty that once held me, did I let it slip away?
I see it and it haunts me when I'm looking at today.
