Transit

Four counties today, but tomorrow will be three
I'll wake up in the same bed where I'll go to sleep
I'm always on the move, yet I never leave
Alameda, Santa Clara, San Mateo, and then back to the City

I'm wearing white on the road, so it feels like home
I'm drooling in her bed, so it feels like my own
When the morning comes, I don't want to know
It's a quarter to six, I should be sleeping or gone or both

It's a great way to see places I've hardly been
I sit back, relax, and watch it all roll right by me
Sure as shit I feel a little guilty
I don't look no one in the eye; I close mine; I pretend I'm asleep

I'm wearing white on the road, so it feels like home
I'm drooling in her bed, so it feels like my own
When the morning comes, I don't want to know
It's a quarter to six, I should be sleeping or gone or both

And my backpack's full. Packed tight: cylindrical
I could be gone for a day or two, or maybe three
I triangulate my way around the Bay
Dreaming of the day I spend it all in one county
Until then...

I'm wearing white on the road, so it feels like home
I'm drooling in her bed, so it feels like my own
When the morning comes, I don't want to know
It's a quarter to six, I should be sleeping or gone or both



Credits
Writer(s): Simon Hochberg
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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