We watched the sky that night. I drank bourbon, she drank wine, and we laughed about starting over again. We sang songs from better times, and though we forgot some lines, we reached the end. The world's too big to see from here, with a razorblade smile from ear to ear. I took off running toward big midwest skies. She said, we'll bend, but we won't

break, while the phonograph crackled like a witch at the stake. Back in those days we had something to hide. And through the breeze and chill in the summer sky, I sat with you beneath those downtown lights. And in a blaze of streetlight stars and shoelace stares, we said our last goodbyes over Manhattan Square. I'm driving around this town, nothing to stop me now. Got nowhere to go. Ghost Tales on the stereo.