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One, two, three, four
to Hudson Yards
It's crowded on the weekdays
From April to May
Parse apart a troubled from an E Train
And sing it in L.A.
And in your rearview
You along
To the first verse
Of your song
That you quote each day with the words all wrong
So call me the world bleak
I you but it's hard to believe
With every day we'll start to see
The rest is metamodernity
agrestic charm
It's humid in the midwest
From June to July
All a pinkish sky the wildfires
Which mantle the horizon line
From the outset
It's been hard to tell
Why you'd feel this down
When it all well
So call me the world looks bleak
I love you but it's to believe
With every day we'll start to see
The rest is metamodernity
to Hudson Yards
It's crowded on the weekdays
From April to May
Parse apart a troubled from an E Train
And sing it in L.A.
And in your rearview
You along
To the first verse
Of your song
That you quote each day with the words all wrong
So call me the world bleak
I you but it's hard to believe
With every day we'll start to see
The rest is metamodernity
agrestic charm
It's humid in the midwest
From June to July
All a pinkish sky the wildfires
Which mantle the horizon line
From the outset
It's been hard to tell
Why you'd feel this down
When it all well
So call me the world looks bleak
I love you but it's to believe
With every day we'll start to see
The rest is metamodernity
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( Traducción Automática )
Con tecnología de Microsoft® Translator
