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)