I’ve noticed, every time
On my bus ride down 95
The balconies on that highrise
Never seem to be occupied

But if I close my eyes and try real hard
I can figure out what went wrong
But then it’s gone

I wake up everyday
Have coffee and be on my way
There’s a balcony that faces the train
Someone lives there but I don’t know her name

But if I close my eyes and try real hard
I can figure out what went wrong
If I stop and stare
She may think I’ve seen
That she’s not alone
On her balcony

The Maestro has fallen ill and no one knows what’s wrong
Can’t stand on his own two feet and now it won’t be long
They’ve got all the right doctors tending to his needs
And a bed that they adjust to various degrees

It’s getting dark round here the maestro’s fallen ill
It’s getting dark round here the maestro’s fallen ill
It’s getting dark round here and quiet round here and dark round here
It’s getting dark round…

Everyone in his room is busy making plans
Digging out his will and blowing off his fans
But no one seems to notice that underneath his breath
He’s humming soft in the key of F

I like the way the sun hits, the back of the buildings around 6.
It’s like a dream you can’t forget, it’s like a dream-

I keep my pockets thin, while everyone is stuffing them
They’re empty; they’ve always been, except a little lint
I keep my conscience clear even after my seventh beer
You’ll be sleeping, but you’re not dreaming

This is not a perfect spot, but goddamn it’s all we got,
We could ask for more, how could we ask for more?

They sit and smile, with selfish attitudes,
It burns me up inside, their egocentric pride,
You must become deaf, to every word they say,
Don’t let ‘em break you down, you’ll turn it all around.

This is not a perfect spot, but goddamn it’s all we got,
We could ask for more, how could we ask for more?

We sit and smile,
It burns me up inside.
You must become deaf,
Don’t let ‘em break you down.

You don’t need them, the objects you desire,
Let’s enjoy what we have, not wish for what we don’t.
I raise my glass to you, my friends with gratitude,
We live and love today, do things the right way.

I keep my pockets thin while everyone was stuffing them
They’re empty; they’ve always been, except a little lint
What you flaunt is all you’re not
All you got is all you want

You met me, when I shopped at your HMV,
I couldn’t help but go back, again and again and again.
It wasn’t long before you hired me, and then Kelly,
She said “we all should go out after work at-

Siberia, just behind the black door”
Siberia, Siberia-

It wasn’t long before I moved in, and our songs, began to swim,
We put together our band, and recruited Dan.
Once underground at 49th, now behind the Port Authority,
We would visit frequently, made friends with Kieran B.

A dive bar with personality, owned by jolly Tracy,
Kieran opened up the door, made us feel like family.
You gotta do your own sound, but you can mess around,
Invite your friends up on stage, to play at-

Siberia, just behind the black door,
Siberia, Siberia-

Look at the water main, its valve is in our room.
From its pipe a sign hangs, it warns of flood and doom.
It would be too easy, to just give it a,

Turn, water’s rushin’ quickly,
Turn, I can’t catch my breath,
Turn, the amps are underwater,
Turn, I could not help myself.

Oh now what should I do, the damage has set in.
They’re bangin’ down the door, your nerves are wearing thin.
I felt so powerful, I just gave it a,

Turn, water’s rushin’ quickly,
Turn, I could not catch my breath,
Turn, the amps are underwater,
Turn, I could not help myself.

You can scratch it but it won’t go away
You’re feeling like it’s empty in here
It doesn’t make sense cause it’s Saturday
You’re waiting for me to appear

I’m sorry bout the double date
I thought that you might see a spark
Some things you gotta instigate
Only when it gets dark

You send me postcards from a block away
Of all the details of that night
You’re scared to tell me face to face
You’ve always been too polite

I’m sorry bout the double date
I thought that you might see a spark
Some things you gotta instigate
Only when it gets dark

We got dust on our shoes
As we stumble down to I don’t know where
And you’re talking up a storm
You say The Searchers put the camera there
You imported red sand to the Italian countryside
And I made the sound twice as loud
You paid a man a salary
To spread that sand all around

Lots of things will come and go
But they’ll always leave this place alone
So if you see them coming up behind
Pay no mind, pay no mind
You painted outside the lines again
The same exact memory
And just like your characters
You’ll never ever sell your dream
You just wanted to capture
The open expanse of a clear blue sky
You never knew you were after
The loneliness of his clear blue eyes

Lots of things will come and go
But they’ll always leave this place alone
So if you see them coming up behind
Pay no mind, pay no mind
If you want the blue sky and the blue eyes

40 million watts of electricity, course through these walls.
Setting fire to our instruments, bringing life to our songs.

Strings of lights, in blue and white,
Set aglow our hair and eyes,
Reflecting off the rims of the drums,
Reflecting off my glitter and your whammy bar.

40 million watts of electricity, course through these walls.
Setting fire to our instruments, bringing life to our songs.

Cords twisted, curled, and coiled.
Insulation nails, exposed.
Textured, colored foam, pad the walls.
Twinkling lights, set the tone.

(Jessica Flanagan)

You comprehend my words, when no one understands.
We speak the same language,
And you’re my Bob Harris—

I’m the girl in the pink wig,
We can watch old movies in your hotel room,
Or steal into the Tokyo moonlight.

You comprehend my words, when no one understands me.
We speak the same language,
‘Cause you’re my Joe Bradley—

I’m the girl with the new haircut,
You can drink cold coffee in the street café,
I’ll have champagne,
And you’re my Nino Quincampois—
I’m the girl in the Zorro mask,
We can ride on your moped,
And steal into the blue and red sunrise.