Lesser oceans
Fences
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She asked 'hows Seattle' in some motherly talk
Its okay, its mostly grey
I think I'm just leveling off
And sometimes I think I'm running around
Like a dog with no song
No song
And Im following some flickering lamp
In the fog, the fog
I know, I know, that I'm getting older
I don't think they really like me
If I could just stay a little longer
They might be giving up new greys
Think back, to the time we drove
To Park Slope for a walk
It's okay, it's far away
I just think i'm measuring ours
And sometimes I think you're writing this down
For the songs, the songs, the songs
And it's something that you don't really feel
But it's ours, it's ours, it's ours
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