I am a singer and I linger here in my cap and gown.
My train is at the station, I am wasted and my head's on the ground.
It is not patient, it accelerates, it runs for the lead.
I need a lawyer, an employer and a red car for speed.
The station's lonely, it is holy, I'm baptized by the night.
Voices wander on the sidewalk under hazy streetlights.
She took her cigarettes, but she was kind she left me her spark.
We said farewell on the stairwell, she escaped in the dark.
And all of this supposed happiness, it is exploding, it's eroding, yeah it's bringing me down.
And all of them, all of these actresses, they are impressive in sundresses but they're bringing me down.
They're bringing me down, down.
They're bringing me down.
We speak of novels, speak of words on pages we've never read.
We whisper prayers for our salvation til we find ourselves dead.
If you're a singer, could you linger? Would you take off your gown?
If Albany was calling, could you answer? Would you leave your hometown?