I wish I went to pieces
like a puzzle, not a jar
And I wish you'd cut me off
like a machete, not a bar
If you'd just let me lie,
like a lawyer, not my wife
I only wanna sign
in some language, not on some line
Pour one out for Tom and me,
and how we're never ever gonna live that dream
of putting back bubbly
on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial
under a blue moon on the Washington Mall
and for no reason at all, there's no security
Come on, Tom, at least skip a meal with me
Pour one out for Tom and me,
we saw a balloon in the desert on a taxi TV
when the gangsters died in the Mojave
We get yelled at by Sperry-wearing guys in the street
because the shirts we're wearing were made for ladies
which we realize
but not immediately
Come on, Tom, at least skip a meal with me
Pour one out for Tom and me,
and how we always get hustled at Venice Beach
by the blind guy with the burned CDs
We went looking for a club that was 18-plus
but all the guys there were better versions of us,
and it's the worst of ourselves
is the part we can trust
Come on, Tom, at least skip a meal with me
Just when we're sure we can take it no more
we're 20 miles north of the cherry fields
and still 20 south, of Baltimore
Tom says one last thing before we turn and run:
"I think it's fucking funny how every song about two people
is just about one."
Come on, brother, no. Don't say that, please.
I wish I went to pieces
like a puzzle, not a jar
And I wish you'd cut me off
like a machete, not a bar
If you'd just let me lie,
like a lawyer, not my wife
I only wanna sign
in some language, not on some line
credits
from Never Met The Author,
released August 6, 2015
written and performed by Chance Solem-Pfeifer
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