Ramona Was a Waitress

Typing letters to the dead
Late at night on a closed piano lid
She circles past, she fills you a glass
But she don't recognise the song

'Once in a Lifetime', she says
The waking life stitched together in your head
Well, what if it's only worth
The bundle of nerves it's written on?

And I don't need these arms anymore
I don't need this heart now to love
I don't need this skin and bone
At all

There's a way you've always known her
Telephone between her cheek and her shoulder
And eyes like crystal balls
That just won't shut up about the future of the future

Ramona was a waitress
All but made of information
In a bar under that third bridge
She says she's looking forward to living forever

And I don't need these arms anymore
I don't need this heart now to love
I don't need this skin and bone
At all

I won't need these arms anymore
I won't need this heart now to love
I won't need this skin and bone
At all
At all, at all, at all, at all, at all
At all, at all, at all, at all, at all
At all, at all, at all, at all, at all
At all, at all, at all, at all, at all
Oh...
Oh...

Ramona was a waitress
Ramona was a waitress
Ramona was a waitress