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From the 22nd floor
Walking down the corridor
Looking out the picture window down
On Sycamore
While perspective lines converge
Rows of cars and buses merge
All the sweet green trees of Atlanta burst
Like little bombs
Or little pom-poms
Shaken by a careless hand
That dries them off
And leaves again
Life just kind of empties out
Less a deluge than a drought
Less a giant mushroom cloud
Than an unexploded shell
Inside a cell
Of the Lennox Hotel
On the 22nd floor
Found a notice on my door
While outside, the sun is shining on
Those little bombs
Those little pom-poms
Life just kind of empties out
Less a deluge than a drought
Less a giant mushroom cloud
Than an unexploded shell
Inside a cell
Of the Lennox Hotel
Inside a cell
Of the Lennox Hotel
Inside a cell
Of the Lennox Hotel
Inside a cell
Of the Lennox Hotel
Walking down the corridor
Looking out the picture window down
On Sycamore
While perspective lines converge
Rows of cars and buses merge
All the sweet green trees of Atlanta burst
Like little bombs
Or little pom-poms
Shaken by a careless hand
That dries them off
And leaves again
Life just kind of empties out
Less a deluge than a drought
Less a giant mushroom cloud
Than an unexploded shell
Inside a cell
Of the Lennox Hotel
On the 22nd floor
Found a notice on my door
While outside, the sun is shining on
Those little bombs
Those little pom-poms
Life just kind of empties out
Less a deluge than a drought
Less a giant mushroom cloud
Than an unexploded shell
Inside a cell
Of the Lennox Hotel
Inside a cell
Of the Lennox Hotel
Inside a cell
Of the Lennox Hotel
Inside a cell
Of the Lennox Hotel
Lyrics submitted by Eamon
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From the 22nd floor, walking down the corridor, looking out the picture window down on Sycamore. While perspective lines converge, rows of cars and buses merge.
...Notice that the lines are about a person, but since there's no specific reference, you don't know if it's first, second, or third. Is it, I? You? He? She? Clearly it's meant to be interpretable in any of these ways.
The lines refer to the person's being older and wiser, and yet relegated to being an observer only--no longer able to experience life as an active participant.
All the sweet green trees of Atlanta burst like little bombs; or little pom-poms, shaken by a careless hand that dries them off and leaves again.
A small correction to the lyrics as submitted by Eamon.
John seems uncertain whether or not the trees are little bombs, little destructive agents, or little pom-poms, cheering him on. It's a more widespread ambiguity for him -- as if he doesn't understand fundamental differences in his own life, can't distinguish the good things from the bad things.
Halfway through the song, when he finds the notice on his door, he notices the sun shining indifferently on the "little bombs", the "little pom-poms", and this underscores his remoteness. The trees aren't bombs or pom-poms, they're just trees. It's up to him to interpret what he wants them to mean for him, and he can't decide, but they make him think about the emptiness and anticlimax of his life, "not with a bang but a whimper" as several of you have said. Not even his failure is a mushroom cloud, just a fizzle.
Both characters in the songs on this album seem gradually to be fading out of existence. They note their fading, but don't stop it and perhaps can't.
Personally I think it's about those moments in life when all the underwhelming things in life seem like the most important.