The Photo Album lyrics

Sitting on a carousel ride
without any music or lights,
everything was closed at Coney Island
and I could not help from smiling.
I can hear the Atlantic echo back,
rollercoaster screams from summers past.
amd everything was closed at Coney Island
and I could not help from smiling
Brooklyn will fill the beach eventually
and everyone will go except me.

Whenever I come back,
the air on railroad is making the same sounds.
And the shop fronts on Holly
are dirty words (asterisks in for the vowels)
and we peered through the windows:
New bottoms on barstools, the people remain the same,
with prices inflating - inflating

As if saved from the gallows,
there's a bellow of buzzers and people stop working
and they're all so excited - excited

The workdays were propping the bar quietly erasing the week
and I was in corner booth thinking (pretending to read)
about the impossibility of one to love unconditionally
and the words that we drive into the ground:
their repitition starts to thin their meaning.
Then everything got frighteningly still as they entered and intersected the floor

it's a backwards attraction to your forward eyes
but you're so far-sighted that you can't place trust
in what or who you recognize
we sped the plymouth cross the banks of the mississippi river
mary timony was smaller then a super ball...
chitter-chatter all these secrets started giving me the shivers
plain and simply broken down near olympia
i think your bruise was understanded,

I'm in los angeles today... it smells like an airport runway. jet fuel stenches in the cabin and lights flickering at random.
I'm in los angeles today... garbage cans comprise the medians of freeways always creaping even when the population's sleeping.

And i can't see why you'd want to live here.

When we laugh indoors the blistful tones bounce off the walls
and fall to the ground.
Peel the hardwood backs
and let them loose from decades trapped and listen so still.

This city is my home construction noise all day long
and gutter punks bumming change.
So I breed thicker skin and let me lustrous coat fill in
and i'll never admit i loved you guenivere.
i loved you guenivere i loved you

i intentionally wrote it out to be an illegible mess
you wanted me to write you letters, but i'd rather lose your address
and forget that we'd ever met and what did or did not occur.
sitting in the station, it's all a blur
of dancehall hips, pretentious quips.
a boxers, bob and weave.

and here's the kicker of this whole shebang

i put on my overcoat and walked into winter - my teeth chattered rhythms
and they were grouped in twos or threes, like a morse code message was sent
from me to me. cars on slippery slopes, they're stuck: people pushing through
their mittens as i was beginning to feel it soaking through my shoes, getting
colder with every step i took to your apartment, dear.

I'm in Los Angeles today: It smells like an airport runway.
Jet fuel stenches in the cabin and lights flickering at random.
I'm in Los Angeles today:
Grabage cans comprise the medians of freeways always creeping
even when the population's sleeping.
And I can't see why you'd want to live here.

I'm in Los Angeles today:
Asked a gas station employee if he ever had trouble breathing

There's a saltwater film on the jar of your ashes; I threw them to the sea,
but a gust blew them backwards and the sting in my eyes
that you then inflicted was par for the course just as when you were living.
It's no stretch to say you were not quite a father
but the donor of seeds to a poor, single mother that would raise us alone.
We never saw the money that went down your throat

I put on my overcoat and walked into the winter
My teeth chattered rhythms.
And they were grouped in twos and threes,
like a morse code message was sent from me to me.
and cars on slippery slopes were stuck:
people pushing through their mittens
as I was beginning
to feel like soaking through my shoes,
getting colder with every step I took to your apartment, dear.
(oohh)