The wind's been blowing Way too long And I'm starting to lose my mind And now the rain's started And I'm broken-hearted I'm running three hours behind
I know I said that I'd be home In time for the evening news The world's been fired And I'm so tired I'm starting to live the blues
Just pour my wine I'll be fine Give me time I'm coming home to you
Another tree's past And it won't be the last But it's a quarter to three or four (?) I could hire a car But if they've gone too far I'm here until they open the door
I keep my pain Way down deep Where no one else can see It feels so right But sometimes at night It's starting to eat at me
Just pour my wine I'll be fine Give me time I'm coming home to you
(bass solo)
(spoken) Sometimes I feel like I'm in the middle of a really bad Andy Warhol story. When I'm just famous for being fifteen minutes late. I mean, that's on a good day. It also depends on how important the meeting, or the appointment - the rendezvous - whatever it is. How important it is directly relates to how late I'll be. Could be a couple of days, sometimes. Almost makes you totally believe that there's someone up there. Someone controlling things. Otherwise, why would these things happen? Like there's God, or gods, up there... just having a laugh. Having a laugh. Enjoying a glass of wine, and just having a laugh. Just having a laugh.