eight hundred miles for you. eight hundred miles for me. what can i say? it's not so hapless. it's not so harsh. i can take it. so i sit on the porch and i listen to traffic. i read the paper. this is water. this is wood. this is your living room. this feels good. half fiction, half documentary. i'm right on. no. i don't know. there is distance more than miles. but our ideas are adjoining canals.
Lyrics submitted by inretrospect