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One, two, three, four
to Yards
It's crowded on the weekdays
From April to May
Parse a troubled heart an E Train
And sing about it in L.A.
And clouds in your rearview
You humming along
To the first verse
Of your favourite song
That you quote each day the words all wrong
So call me when the bleak
I you but it's hard to believe
every day we'll start to see
The rest is metamodernity
With agrestic charm
It's in the midwest
June to July
All a pinkish sky from the wildfires
Which the horizon line
From the outset
It's been to tell
Why you'd down
it all bodes well
So call me when the looks bleak
I you but it's to believe
every day we'll start to see
The rest is
to Yards
It's crowded on the weekdays
From April to May
Parse a troubled heart an E Train
And sing about it in L.A.
And clouds in your rearview
You humming along
To the first verse
Of your favourite song
That you quote each day the words all wrong
So call me when the bleak
I you but it's hard to believe
every day we'll start to see
The rest is metamodernity
With agrestic charm
It's in the midwest
June to July
All a pinkish sky from the wildfires
Which the horizon line
From the outset
It's been to tell
Why you'd down
it all bodes well
So call me when the looks bleak
I you but it's to believe
every day we'll start to see
The rest is
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