Gaston Ave - Astronautalis

Call you up on the telephone, no-one answer

Call again, it rings, I call again

I think of stopping by or stopping in

But never leave home

Tripping back and forth between the bar and home

Looking back and forth at what I done

Collected bottle caps and soggy scraps of high life label peelings

Running tabs, a running up and down the walls again

Climbing up the slang on stalls again

Somethin' 'bout the better times tonight and baby Jesus

Your letters are the ladder I climb rung by rung

To claw my way up to the gates of heaven

The sketches and scratches you draw drunk and alone

Gives me the map that I’ll follow back home

Back home, follow back home, back home

Follow back home, back home

Send me home, take me home

I gotta get, I gotta go

Cut me up, cut me off, kick me

I’m a busy man, I got a schedule to keep

Where’s my data, where’s my gun, where’s my hat

I’m madder than a… where’s my phone, where’s my fax

Can’t look past you’re hacking at the forest but you never hit a tree

Tell me one more time, tell me once more, promise that I’ll listen

But I can’t be promis-isn' I’ll be baking cakes

Or building you no castles by the sea

Good little lady you driving me crazy

Why don’t you swing my way and find your seat

Your lipstick is lazy, your eyes are all hazy

But there’s somethin' behind the whiskey whispers you speak

That rocks me to sleep

There must be something terribly wrong with me

Sometimes I feel like I haven’t learned anything

Good little lady you driving me crazy

Why don’t you swing my way and find your seat

Your lipstick is lazy, your eyes are all hazy

But there’s somethin' behind the whiskey whispers you speak

That rocks me to sleep