E.M.P.T.Y. - The Clientele

When I’m riding home at night now

I get in so tired

To the saws and bows that spell out

But driving west now

Half-past five

My skin is cut

My hands are knives

I could be anyone alive

But I just can’t fit

And it’s too late to quit

When the night air comes to me

I wonder if the days I’ve lived through count

With the world strung like a rosary

Through faces moving in the crowd

What is the color and the number

When happiness begins?

When the knight waits in the laurels

Hesitating…

I found a clarity I’ve never known

In fag-end weeks before I left for school

The darkness in the pylons

And the smoke and creosote

Cancelling the faces that we knew

Did they forget the light inside your eyes?

Those simple words, those lovers' signs?

The hand is dealt, the cards are played

But i just can’t fit

And it’s too late to quit

I saw them, and I knew them all

Inside a sheet of flame

I saw them, and I knew them all

Inside a sheet of flame

When I’m riding home at night now

I get in so tired

To the saws and bows that spell out