Elliott Smith lyrics

alphabet city is haunted
constantina feels right at home
she probably won't say you're wrong
but you're already wrong
you're already wrong
and you threw up whatever she shot down
said show me around this alphabet town
said show me around
there's a name you keep repeating
you got nothing better to do
and you're with someone who'll hear you say it and just nod
her hand on your arm

no bad dream fucker's gonna boss me around
christian brothers gonna take him down
but it can't help me get over
don't be cross it's sick what I want
i've seen the boss blink on and off
fake concerns is what's the matter, man
and you think I ought to shake yourr motherfucking hand
well I know how much you care
don't be cross it's sick what I want
i've seen the boss blink on and off

they're waking you up to close the bar
the street's wet you can tell by the sound of the cars
the bartender's singing clementine
while he's turning around the open sign
dreadful sorry clementine
though you're still her man
it seems a long time gone
maybe the whole thing's wrong
what if she thinks so but just didn't say so?
you drank yourself into slo-mo
made an angel in the snow

i'm in love with the world through the eyes of a girl
who's still around the morning after
we broke up a month ago and i grew up i didn't know
i'd be around the morning after
it's always been wait and see
a happy day and then you pay
and feel like shit the morning after
but now i feel changed around and instead falling down
i'm standing up the morning after

a low riding junkie girl
rode down south to yr little world like a dream
you can do it if you want to
you can do it if you want to
you can do it if you want to be like me
i wouldn't need a hero if i wasn't such a zero
if i wasn't such a zero
good to go
all i ever see around here is things of hers that you left lying around
it's all i ever see around here
she kicked new york like a curse

your hand on his arm
the hay stack charm around your neck
strung out and thin
calling some friend trying to cash some check
he's acting dumb
that's what you've come to expect
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
he's wearing your clothes
head down to toes a reaction to you
you say you know what he did
but you idiot kid
you don't have a clue

while the hands are pointing up midnight
you're a question mark coming after people you watched collide
you can ask what you want to the satellite
cos the names you drop put ice in my veins
and for all you know you're the only one who finds it strange
when they call it a lover's moon
the satellite
cos it acts just like lovers do
the satellite
a burned out world you know

here in line where stupid shit collides with
dying shooting stars all we got to show
what we really are is the same kind of scars
and looking at you all i see is your waiting
for something single file you're a murder mile
you idiot kid your arm's got a death in it
if your choking up take this paper cup
but there's a price you'll pay for
trying hard to become whatever they are

killing a southern belle is all you know how to do
that and give other people hell
it's what they expect from you too
but i wouldn't have you how you want
i don't wanna walk around
i don't even want to breathe
i live in a southern town
where all you can do is grit yr teeth
but i wouldn't have you how you want
how come you're not ashamed of what you are?

everything is exactly right
when i walk around here drunk every night
with an open container from 7-11
in st. ides heaven
i've been out haunting the neighborhood
and everybody can see i'm no good
when i'm walking out between parked cars
with my head full of stars
high on amphetamines
the moon is a lightbulb breaking
it'll go around with anyone
but it won't come down for anyone

i'm waiting for the train
the subway that only goes one way
the stupid thing that will come to pull us apart
and make everybody late
you spent everything you had
wanted everything to stop that bad
and now i'm a crushed credit card registered to smith
not the name that you call me with
you turned white like a saint
i'm tired of dancing on a pot of gold flake paint

keep your things in a place meant to hide
but i know they're there somewhere
and i know that's where you'll go tonight
i'll be thrown over just like before
the white lady loves you more
need a metal man just to pick up your feet
it's a long time since you cared enough for me to even be discrete
i know what this metal is for
the white lady loves you more

i'm a junkyard full of false starts
and i don't need yr permission
to bury my love under this bare light bulb
the moon is a sickle cell
it'll kill you in time
you cold white brother riding yr blood
like spun glass in sore eyes
while the moon does its division you're buried below
and you're coming up roses everywhere you go
red roses follow
the things that you tell yourself