Saw the man with the camera hand
Between the moon and New York
Waiting through trash left by the broken state
We held our breaths as best we could
We shared our minds with our heroes then
And we wondered if we should
Dried up squid and differenters
We laughed and walked by all the lights
I won't get back home
And lay down
A racoon in my wall might sound
It would feel like a -
hero that may hate all of my dear friends
Smoked filled up the apartments
In every record is found a scratch
But will be listened to in darkness
What holds sometime that's up to that
I want to get back home
And lay down
A racoon in my wall might sound
It would feel like a
Hero that may hate all of my dear friends

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