In the long hot summer nights And in the cold dark winter days In the clear hours of the early morning And in the late night drunken haze I keep on seeing things in the corner of my eye
Like this guy in an old baggy T-shirt Smiling like he grasped something that That the rest of us didn't understand The way he will stand completely still While the people just walk on by
The girl on a bike, probably on her way home The girl in a car talking on her phone The phone girl does not see the bike girl and hits her And the bike girl makes a sickening sound As she hits the street and the people scream
And the sad man is standing Slack jawed in line for potato, sifting through his pockets Coming up old bus tickets and grocery store receipts Droopy eyes and baggy black jeans It's his first time in Oslo
A pretty boy on one of those cruiser bikes Is checking his bed head hairdo in window While he talks to beautiful girl It's something about the wine and Portugal
And the wild man is blocking the way Of a businessman doing his spasmodic dance As he screams, "Take a dump in my head Take a dump in my head"
We all come home to empty beds It doesn't matter if anyone's there or not And we all come home to chock full heads It doesn't matter what we do or what we got
We all come home to that silent voice That keeps on talking And we try to cancel it out But it keeps on going Keeps on going like a drone
The good times used to kill me The good times used to kill me But now I am good at killing time Yeah, the good times used to kill me Now I am good at killing time