Where is the real stuff and when do you know,
I’ve got a pocket full of money and no place to go.
And im sure that its hard but I was too slow.
I’ve got a head full the something with nothing to show.
Took a casual walk to let off some steam,
And I found out that maybe were not what we seems.
Why is always land and fear of the sea,
Maybe too late but you could of just asked me.
I always find myself stranded with cuts on my face
In some strange part of town where I don’t know my place
But I’ve never left normal, if that were the case
I could never come back if my footsteps erased
And the houses are all sleeping all down your block
And I’ll probably give a, just so we can talk
I’ve got a head full of something but nothing to show
For a pocketful of money and no place to go
My brother walks from New Zealand to Rome
I crawled to the city and I couldn’t find my way home
He might never come back from the way that he talked
For he’ll always return from causal walks