BrightEyes: Nothing Like a Sunday

I don't know what it is but you got to do it

I don't know where to go But you got to be there

I don't know where to fall

But I know that its comfortable where

I don't know where it is

Putting all of my time In learning to care

And a bucket of rhymes I threw up somewhere

Want a locket of who Made me lose

my perfunctory view Of all that is around

And of all that I do

So I knock on the door, Take a step that is new

Never been here before

Is there anyone else who's too

In love with beauty

Playing all of the games

And thinks three's company

Is there anyone else who has slightly mysterious bruises

I don't know what it is

Sick of looking around at friendly faces

All declaring a war on far off places

Is there anyone else who is through

With complaining about what's Done unto us

So I knock on the door

And I am on a train

Going god knows where to

To get me over, To get me over

Give me heaven or hell

Calais or Dover

I was hoping the train

Was my big number

Taking the Santa Fe and the Atchison-Topeka

But we're chugging along, put Dunaway by the crossing and

Could be heading for Portland, or limbo or Lower Manhattan

Find myself running around

I don't know what it is to get me over

To get me over

You gotta do it.

You gotta be there.

BrightEyes