hey, john you move to slow for me
and i’m spending all this money
wondering where you’re going
as the night turns to nothing
it’s all i’ve been thinking


you said southern california
nobody ever warned ya
that she’d wrap you in this sadness
you asked me what are the chances
of us leaving Los Angeles tonight


you could grab another drink for me
we’ll make a plan built on fantasy
of a home in the desert
or the trees meet the water
but i’m happy in this bar here


getting drunk and across the table
you ask me if i know what it’s like
to wanna close the door forever
and never go outside
and i said obviously i do
but i think i’d open it up for you


i think a part of you is listening
to the part of me that whispering
i’m not asking you to love me
i’m just talking about some company
i know i’m not alone in wanting


but you joke that you’re almost 30
and you sleep in a sleeping bag
it’s alright cause i’m still sleeping
in the same room i’ve always had
and you’ve fooled yourself into thinking
that you’re making some kind of strides
by getting yourself to tell me
the things that you normally hide


i drive you when i shouldn’t
back to your door
you just sat there laughing
with a classic hesitation
as to what’s supposed to happen
but i know that you won’t kiss me
and i don’t want to come inside
if in the morning we say it was nothing
but something we thought we should try
and we’d still be strangers