Jasiah wants me to take his picture on Sunday
We can go to Belvidere, that's all right J.
I lost one eye in the footlights,
but the other one's trying to look right in the right light.

Oh, can I get what's mine?
You're owed nothing but time.

And I could have fallen in love with Phoebe
if she'd left her family and gone to Berklee.
It wouldn't have made a great story,
but at the end of my life, I tell it every night in the Mahogany.

Connor and Leah and I sat through the awful show,
not surprised that the man on stage was someone we used to know.
A million dead in the footlights.
I guess we knew they might.

When everyday blinds with blinding light
I guess we knew they might.

Angela sits at her sewing table,
sewing as she is able.
Stitching a pattern from here to Alma,
stitching like Patricia.

And Owen he waits under a blanket in Brookline,
whispering borrowed words into a borrowed mic on borrowed time.
Watches the waves and asks is there something I should say?
All you've said man, it's okay. It'll do for today.

Then Allie and I, backsliding to Centerville,
sat in the cafe alone on the hill.
She said maybe they should change their name.
Maybe I should do the same.

What's in a name, what's in a place?
I look for the truth, I see it cloud your face.
Where will you run Lord? Where will you go?
I guess I don't really need to know.

Out of the wall on a Sunday,
where Richie is calling his family and chewing on Maddie.
Erini's across the river.
Can't wait to show this to her.