Ramona Was a Waitress

Typing letters to the dead

Late at night on a closed piano lid

She circles past, she fills your glass

But she don't recognize the song

Once in a lifetime, she says

The waking life stitched together in your head

Well, what if it's only worth

The bundle of nerves it's written on?

And I don't need these arms anymore

I don't need this heart now to love

I don't need this skin and bone at all

There's a way you've always known her

Telephone between her cheek and her shoulder and

Eyes like crystal balls

That just won't shut up about the future of the future

Ramona was a waitress

All but made of information

In a bar under the third bridge

She says she's looking forward to living forever

When I won't need these arms anymore

I won't need this heart now to love

I won't need this skin and bone at all

I won't need these arms anymore

I won't need this heart now to love

I won't need this skin and bone at all

At all, at all, at all, at all, at all

At all, at all, at all, at all, at all

At all, at all, at all, at all, at all

At all, at all, at all, at all, at all

Ramona was a waitress

Ramona was a waitress

Ramona was a waitress