Texty: Herman Dune. New Jersey Cross Concrete.

(hey, what's up guys? it's me
i'm playing pool with johnston gerald, in boston
and i, i'm coming home on sunday, i think
but maybe monday
give a call if you like
and tell me what's been going on in the city)

i fell asleep on the road-trip
and a snowstorm made me cross concrete
between highspeed, highway lanes and exit lane
and i woke up to a sign that says:
"for U-turn it's the second right"
and the thought that i could die
getting off my car
trying to stop a crazy blind new jersey traffic jam,
the thought, it told me:
"hey David, you could've called your parents.
you could've sang a beautiful song with your sister.
you could've been in the cabin last spring.
you could've written something good eventually.
you could've told someone you love, you did."
and then by chance, i got back on the road
and i could start not thinking about anything that matters
it's like when i sent that letter
and forgot to write your name on it
and it's like the pictures i took on tour
and never found the film
and back to the radio,
"back in my arms again" by the Supremes
And even now, even right now,
it doesn't feel like i could have said that
And even now, even right now,
it doesn't feel like i could have said that
And even now, even right now,
it doesn't feel like i could have said that
i couldn't...
And even now, even right now,
it doesn't feel like i could have said that