I can't be this lonely
talking to a grown man
bitching and moaning
the world is round
spins round and round
the world is round
hugging the ground
the stool spins round
with my head on the ground

ceramic
trying not to think
one more shot
and I'll start crying
ceramic
I'm not really here

Here and now
hurry down
broadway, someway
far away
that doesn't say
what you don't say
and you won't stay

empty pockets,
lonely wandering
because the fare isn't paid
driving next to a couple,
where a gentleman pays your way.