Powderfinger Pockets
By now you know that I never arrived
I was too tired to move
I was gonna invent an elaborate excuse
But I'm tired of them too
Little pockets of air in the atmosphere
Make it easy to breathe
So farewell to unpleasant scenes
I want you to stay, stay, stay
The blinding flash of circling stars
Left relatively shallow scars
You played your faux renaissance card
To starry eyes and wild applause
It's not your destination
So something, something better happen