And I saw your father drinking at a snowed in dive bar where the mirrors
And the men they all look like God.


And I saw your mother winking somewhere behind my back and I saw all those
Lines we could never cross.


I am going, I am going, I am gone.

And dreams are made of things that have to go away like helium balloons or

Hangover headaches.

And I was walking home from Boston looking for my final home and I wrote

You a letter but I lost it went searching for a pay phone.

'Cause when I die, I will die all alone.