Just Out Of View - Blake Mills

A queue that wore the mark of her thumbnail

Has been pulled down

From off the wall

Daring the billiard ball

To bait its own narrow trap

The young one finds the doorman quite good looking

He considers me a fag

Because he’s the judge of «all that»

He and maybe a dozen bros

That have been unloved by the dads

The young one goes to gather all her catcalls

I’ll play dead through every song

That ever tried to right those wrongs

That will start a talk we don’t wanna have

I see the mark from that little thumbnail

Now she’s done with me

Just look at what she’s done to me

Out of sight without a mind

Like a mess in a room you don’t see

Laying in the queue just out of view