After Hours (Deluxe)

There are billboards in heaven and 7-Elevens

And 24-hour arcade bars

A lazy river that runs between the suburbs and slums

And speed limits enforced by radar

I live by myself in a duplex for now

With a pretty good view of the pyramids

At night, I take the train home, sinking to new lows

And picture you practicing pirouettes

I miss our adventures, East Village winters

Acting out True West by lamplight

You looked like After Hours-era Catherine O'Hara

You were really on one that night

Saint Simons Island, your eyes cutting diamonds

The water was clear, almost too clear

And embarrassed in Paris to fuck on the terrace

"Who cares," you said, "They do have rules here"

There's a Diet Coke fountain, there's no good Italian

There's free shuffleboard in the main hall

Big budget productions of the lives of your loved ones

The good stuff is behind a paywall

I don't know where you've been lately 'cause I don't watch the dailies

But I imagine you back up in Lake Hill

Taking down windchimes and running through stop signs

To pick up Clementine's pain pills

The last talk we had, I know you weren't really mad

But it sticks in my head for some reason

And it's crazy, I know, I've got nowhere to go

But up here, I wear my seatbelt