Ticker Tape Parade

Absent City

Compositor: Henry Freedland

Clean my clock, put my hands to bed
Wipe the numbers from my head
If I can leave this house today
Throw me a ticker-tape parade

Nothing ever seems to change
When we only rearrange
So meet me at that new café
In the window light where can
Find our way
Window we can find our way
We'll find our way

Nothing's yours until you get it
Nothing's yours until you get this wrong
And I wanna go home to a ship I know

Write this down: The streets are not
The only medicine we've got
If we make it through this mountain pass
Let's find a wave and maybe watch it crash
Maybe we can watch it crash
We'll watch it crash

Nothing's yours until you get it
Nothing's yours until you get this wrong
And I wanna go home to a ship I know
Nothing's yours until you get it
They're closing every door while we get this wrong
And I wanna go home to the only ship I know