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in winter..
.. it's like drinking black coffee trying to stay warm and keeping the cold out. the rain falls, the wind blows. some of you even get to see snow.in autumn..
.. it's a backyard in the suburbs, and hundreds leaves covering the green grass.in summer..
.. it's a night-time thing. out on the balcony (porch) with some beers and your friends.in spring..
.. it's the hope for a brighter day.
Stories You Wouldn't Believe
The Drifter
(words and music by Sam Shinazzi)
I get onto a bus heading into town
I sit down on a seat next to this girl I’ve seen around
And I make eyes at her, she’s got pretty eyes
I make eyes at her but I’m not usually one of those guys.
And I’ve heard stories you wouldn’t believe
I’ve heard stories you wouldn’t believe.
Take this one guy…about my height…
He had what you might call the perfect life
Take this one guy…about my height…
He had what you might call the perfect life.
I step off the bus into the street but she doesn’t follow me
I’ve got some music on and it’s carrying me
Max Weinberg’s in my ear and I’m walking to the beat…
I look up at the buildings and they look back at me
You were here for a while now I drift around aimlessly
You were here for a while now I drift around aimlessly
The days are rolling by
It’s hard to keep up
The days are rolling by
It’s hard to keep up.
I get on the bus…it’s heading home south
The night is falling
It’s strange how strangers are ignoring strangers
And I’ve heard stories you wouldn’t believe
Take this one guy…about my height…
He had what you might call the perfect life
I used to be a pilot and I’d fly to wherever you’d be
Now I look out the window of a bus and I’m indifferent to what I see
You were here for a while now I drift around aimlessly
You were here for a while now I drift around aimlessly.
The days are rolling by
It’s hard to keep up
The days are rolling by
It’s hard to keep up.
