It's waiting here for a bus, it's better than it's coming.
Every day it always does, daydream and kick some dirt, throw a rock or check your watch,
catch your reflection, and it left a lasting impression.
Of the never-ending present, working from the inside out, you step into the easel, it's
gonna run you into results, then there's material, then you've got to change, then you've got

to choose the shoes, go with the galoshes, know the gossip from the truth, just like
back in college, and it barely made an impression, on the never-ending present.
Steal yourself against the curve, or look for semi-precious shame.
When the bus crests that hill, love and hate are just the same thing, it's just the same


Watching as the money drops, every day it always does, bet you there's a song in there,
no end in fact, there never was, nothing but a little expression.
It's waiting here for a bus, it's better than it's coming.








Of the never-ending present, cause I had to give up my impression.
Of the never-ending presence
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