Fishing
Daniel Whitney
Streets damp and warm empty smell metal
Weeds between buildings
Pictures on my hard drive
Well I'm the luckiest guy
Not the loneliest guy steam under floor
Shards by the mirrors frame
Clouds green and low no sign, no nothing now
Well I'm the luckiest guy
Not the loneliest guy
All the pages that have turned
All the errors left unlearned, oh
Well I'm the luckiest guy
Not the loneliest guy in the world not me
Not me