You know sleepless nights are fine
He’s opening his second bottle of wine
Browsing through the atlas of
Anywhere, Anyplace, Anytime
You could say he was the last of the lonely ones
He was the last or the first born son
Walking home through the stained snow
Wherever it goes
He’ll get up tomorrow afternoon
Browsing through his records
Playing his last LP
He’s an emotional wreck
He has not slept yet
He’ll take a lazy walk to the front door
Down the street to the corner store
He’ll do anything not to be bored
Anything, Anyplace, Anytime
You could say he was the last of the lonely ones
He was the last or the first born son
Walking home through the stained snow
Wherever it goes
Un-spooled long tangled threads
Sultry eccentric touch
A race, a race between local and express
…………….. And he was lying
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