Cheap Seats (New Years Day, NYC, 2042)

Fog rolling in under a worried sky

I wish I could paint the view

A drag of the air before I go inside

Get out of the CO2

We're shivering out on the fire escape

Straining to see the parade

Your sister brought a bottle of Beaujolais

Hallucinogens and charades

We'll throw roses on the wreckage from the cheap seats

We'll throw roses on the wreckage from the cheap seats

Roots breaking through the concrete cracks

My laces keep coming undone

We cut through the park with our hands clutched tight

We squint through the winter sun

A fistfight pours out from the corner bar

Like a gaggle of rabid raccoons

The city splayed out with her legs spread wide

Sounds like a Gershwin tune

We'll throw roses on the wreckage from the cheap seats

We'll throw roses on the wreckage from the cheap seats

Take one last bite of this old rotten apple

And ride out to the country with me

Take one last bite of this old rotten apple

And ride out to the country with me

Let's take one last bite of this old rotten apple

And ride out to the country with me

Let's take one last bite of this old rotten apple

And ride out to the country with me

To the country with me