When we wake in the morning we will take the bus and go down to the city from the house on top of this manmade mountain, this hollow hill
From the mountain and down to the city where everything stands still
Two little hands grabbing for two big ones
Leading a safe way through the noise and alarm and the cars and the boats and fumes in my nose and the city is pulling the blood out of me
'Cause I never really had you
So we go down in the tunnel and up on the other side
The leaf and the face and the laughing seagulls
And I don't want to let you go, I don't want to let you go but soon I will have to 'cause we're almost there
Just a few more blocks
Then this good thing stops
And I'll wave you off
'Cause I never really had you
And it's easy to see when you're safe in a distance
It's easy to speak when you can't feel anything
And somebody's got to take the blame, and I blame myself every single day
For having you and losing you
But all this time, you were always on my mind
And the city is big, much too big, and the weekend is short, much too short
I wanted to show you everything, but the distance is f**ing it up
The weekend has come to a stop
Our 48 hours are up
Look at the millionaire taking a limo, slipping a 500 bill to the doorman
American f**up, you should give it to me
I would spend it better
I would do something pretty
I would buy some time, just an hour or two and let the kids take a later train home instead, but everything around rushing through my head, rushing through my head
'Cause I never really had you
So I go out from the station and back to the hill
Into the apartment
Am I breathing still?