When I first saw you, I called it Houston Street. Could we meet? Show me all the things you see? I’m one more here; some old-time pioneer who believes in shaken faith. I still have some cool. I could leave you here with your people. If I’m a flag you’d prefer not to wave.
You’re always in my head. You’re just what I wanted. I live in a constant debt; to feel you, invented.
When I first came to LA, I met you the old-fashioned way. Too drunk. Even worse, much too lonely. I’ll leave it there; a busted homesteader who believes in virgin grace. Somehow I’ll stay proud. Any dick can roll up in a suit. But only I would know what really moves you.
There’s a cinematic end. I picture it just right. Having trouble with the right words but you tell me with your eyes: There’s something good I miss, something I can’t find. Do you believe me now? Can you see it in my eyes?
I live in constant debt. To feel you, invented.