Ambiguous Seasons - Tommy Boys

I’ve been staring at your ceiling

While fixated on days that aren’t today

Well you notice things like ambiguous seasons

They don’t change like they do in the iron states

Spinning 'Spiderland'

The winning hand, still planning to fold

Exchange present times for the past that you want

But you breathe same air

The calm nights and riots, the overnight plans

When you didn’t seem too curious, way back then

But it’s boiling in me up again

New review of old days

Whatever happened?

What changed?

Was it any other way?

The cards are shuffled up and dealt

No place to stand

And I am ashamed of keeping you up at night

Turning off lights without talking

And nodding off to symphonies

Or songs from Coltrane

I’ll try not to make a sound in my sleep

Self-inflict for fun

Bottom bottle, keep it down

Just like when you bite down on your tongue

You’re underneath the wheel

You’re saddling up and arriving there

Bad timing, your history covers decades you won’t see

Been told to write down, been told the right sound

No place to stand, the winning hand