Strike

Absent City

Compositor: Henry Freedland

Now I know you can never trust the man
With an offer in his hand
Even if it's what you planned

So we agree to believe in something else
Before this quaking world melts
I wish it, mostly well

In the weeds of a weekend dream you hit
On a scheme that seems to fit
And I swear, I'm into it

IIt's a long ride from the tower where we met
Fissioned thin, half-dead
Then cracked the ceiling back instead

How the reasons turn to backwards
When we learn that they're such bastards
And you're the kind of match
Who wasn't sure that she would catch

I'll meet you halfway in between
Broadway and any field of green
Everyone gets stuck
But let's not give a fuck