GreenChoby: Listen/Lyrics

• MP3 play whole song, hi-fi (broadband)

 

I lay my head down here by Winthrop Street.  Though all it's good for is losin' sleep.  These shadows echo to my window and rattle me to consciousness at night.  In morning, pull the gate to make the clicking sound, walk over empty Wild Rose bottles on the ground.  Their sting still lingers on the air and in the eyes of passing strangers..

Chorus:  Well, I've moved beyond my tears.  'Cause this pavement tells the same stories year after year.  I've stopped living in my fears ... it's all part of the fabric here.  All part of the fabric here.

I stretch the phone cord to the porch, call 911 for lack of a better choice.  They smoke the crack there as I watch. You know, the squad car never comes on time. 

Chorus

But if I weave myself among these threads, can my color bring some strength to them?  If I do not tear at what is frayed, is there something more that can be made... made of the fabric here... made of the fabric here.

... So I lay my head down here by Winthrop Street, I lay my head down here, down here.