Cannonball Statman - Gold Became A Useless Cover lyrics

The three parted ways, in exchange for a brief trip to the far corners of the human eye where dogs still bark onto recordings of songs about you, written by our fathers and shoved down your throat (like you weren't even looking); yes I said it, and for once you were the victim. Yes! I failed with you as you failed with me, and gold became a useless cover. To paint oneself with euphemisms to lie, and a lie is only to avoid campaigning in other dimensions for spare change and to parade into unknown corners of Brooklyn trapped inside the neon clown. Gold became a useless cover, and to paint the world with euphemisms is to trust you with dreams of escaping into worlds fueled by fluorescent lights tall hotels and Hi8 video tapes of smiling rodents in coffee shops, with dreams of infinity and guitars that looked like fire and driving uselessly on the highway of blue dimensions for spare change. I never trusted you with your fears when thunder and lightning struck that they would murder you and I believed you (but only for a second), until I realized I was driving into the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel under an awning of blue. You painted it gold (when you said you were tolerant); when you said you couldn't paint, you were right and you would fall face first into the New York City Transit System and nothing would be there to take you out (when you said you were tolerant). The sidewalks were by now covered with Vaseline and memories of thinking you were at all close to me, but gold became a useless cover, and I realized you were as human as I had ever imagined you to be. Sometimes you would dance in public all the time sometimes this was a lie sometimes you admitted you weren't sure about the Dali painting sometimes this was a joke sometimes you would've been perfectly willing to paint the sky gold, but sometimes blue or red and you realized you had no one. You didn't know if I of all people could handle this; you made a mistake, I made more on the road to fame, I sang "it's a game of luck, and a game of lies. I'm not willing to apologize." But why not? I made a mistake, you made more; who cares? In the end, who knows what was right and what was wrong, because in the end, you made mistakes, I made mistakes, there were never three (there were), but at the end of the day, we are only able to do so much before something else has begun, and when I was puzzled, because things kept ending and going away, you might've told me the same exact thing because we are all waiting to go on a trip to the far corners of the human eye with coffee and Food Network and tea dedicated to the Grateful Dead and screaming at Rachael Ray and stepping on ice cubes and standing by the light and ending things and beginning things new and old and pizza and strombolis and celebrating Brooklyn with awesome movie scores and coming home two minutes later to write a song about outsourcing and waiting to watch obscure Canadian comedy and videotaping near the end with green lights blue lights and finally turning on the real lights to film the closing sequence, and then sleeping waiting for the morning so we could film the epilogue.