Greeter

I see a storm
Of passing portraits form before my eyes
I try my best to stay afloat
My cheeks are tired
From the smile I've been pulling
My teenage patois fades away
This suit is consistently the cleanest thing I own
I take my station very seriously
That bus I ride mysteriously
This is the first time I've been asked to speak to my manager alone

It cascades down his neck
It's hardly a demand from me
More than a complaint from my many guests
It's just a trim
It's only a trim
It's an all paid spa and back massage
That ends with image coup-de-grâce
Buddy, it's your career ahead

I cannot see the world through these bangs
I learned the other day
That it was Harry R. Truman
Who popularized the idea of building your own tomb
I'm yearning for
The uniforms of the early '50s boom

The barber chopped my hair off and I feel like a fresh new man
But it's only a matter of weeks before that tumor grows again
And I hate every photo where it frames my head
It's January through early March and I don't know what's next
The barber chopped my hair off and I feel like a fresh new man
But it's only a matter of weeks before that tumor grows again
And I hate every photo where it frames my head
It's January through early March and I don't know what's next
The barber chopped my hair off and I feel like a fresh new man
But it's only a matter of weeks before that tumor grows again
And I hate every photo where it frames my head
It's January through early March and I don't know what's next
The barber chopped my hair off and I feel like a fresh new man
But it's only a matter of weeks before that tumor grows again
And I hate every photo where it frames my head
It's January through early March and I don't know what's next
(And I don't know what's next, ah)



Credits
Writer(s): Medieval Found Footage
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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