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)