The last time that I came here
I came down with a fever
The next day it was gone
With the suddenness of its arrival
When we all were much younger
Were we really different
In the really real world we knew
In the really real world we knew
Last night I saw the sun rise
Over sleepy Barcelona
Riding in a bus
With the road crew from embrace
Everyone was sleeping
I noticed a reflection
And saw the egg upon my face
And saw the egg upon my face
The last thing I remember
About waking up in Kristiansand
Was gagging on my toothbrush
As it wiped across my tongue
Removed the drunken sailor
Paid his bar and porno bill
And I have to fuckin' hose him down
And I have to fuckin' hose him down
The clarity is blinding
Where's the befuddled middleman
The gentle Goofus
With his comedy and wit
Spaced out in the crowd
With the cramped and the cluttered
Falls from his fingers to your hand
Falls from your fingers to his hand
The old matchbook trick
Keeps the table from wobble
Slipped under the short leg
Steadies the unsteadiness
The lopsided conversation
Makes a solid place to rest
Arms and thoughts upon
Arms and thoughts upon

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