The Old Matchbook Trick

The last time that i came here
I came down with the fever
Next day it was gone
With the suddenness of it's arrival
When we all were much younger
Were we really different
In the really real world we knew
In the really real world we knew

Last night I saw the sun rise
Over sleepy Barcelona
Riding on a bus
With the road crew from Embrace
Everyone was sleeping
Noticed a reflection
And saw the age upon my face
And saw the age upon my face

Last thing I remember
After waking up in Kristiansand
Was gagging on my toothbrush
As it wiped across my tongue
Removed a drunken sailor
Paid his bar and porno bill
Gonna have to fuckin' hose him down
Gonna have to fuckin' hose him down

The clarity is blinding
Where's the befuddled middleman
The gentle goofus
With his comedy and wit
Spaced out in the crowd
With the cramped and the cluttered
Falls from his fingers to your hand
Falls from your fingers to his hand

(Oo-ooo, oo-oo-oo
Oo-ooo)

The old matchbook trick
Keeps the table from wobbling
Slipped under the short leg
Steadies the unsteadiness
The lopsided conversation
Makes a solid place to rest
Arms and thoughts upon
Arms and thoughts upon

(Oo-ooo, oo-oo-oo
Oo-ooo)