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The Findells: Music/Videos

Eleven-eleven

(The Findells)
Let’s go riding in the truck
I don’t care where we go
We can pick up some beers like we did in the years
When we were running wild

I’ll sit so close to you that people will talk
Put my hand up your leg
I’ll nibble on your neck, we can listen to Beck,
Or maybe Merle Haggard.

When the stars come out
We can find that old picnic table-
Lay back under the sky
Make love if you’re able
(I’ll pretend you’re Clark Gable
I’ll be Claudette Cobert with the moon in my hair.)

Do you remember that night in the rain?
I was wrapped around you
on the hood of that old car
in my back yard
and my mother was calling.

Last night I woke up again
and again and again
with your taste on my lips.
The clock had four sticks
and the ceiling was moving.

And when the sun came up
I was alone in my bed
watching all the pieces return
to that place in my head
(the walls turning red,
the nurse at the door said I needed some more).

There isn’t anything that you’d understand
but I want you to know
that the music they play
since they took you away
has no meaning at all

and when I close my eyes I’m in the city again
putting on my subway face
riding the train, hiding the pain.
Of course you were there reciting Moliere.
“Qnly once do you die but for such a long time”