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lyrics

We left it all in the waiting room, where the sickness never dies
And laughed again in that same old tone, like a servant in his prime
The pictures sway in their metal frames to reveal the shaded paint
What once was white now plays it gray and never seems to age

A turnstile, a siren, infinite in its whine
A prophet, a painter, a prole in proper garments

Today is the day, we wept away our vision in denial
The senses take and congregate in an explosion in the sky
A simpleton made a fool of love, made a pass at confidence
And the city lights took their fucking time, so we waited and waited

Waited…

And we left it all in the waiting room
We left it all in the waiting room

credits

from Maybe Cities Would Be Kinder​.​.​., released June 12, 2020

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Dronen Orange, California

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