Where is the real stuff and when do we know?
I got a pocket full of money and no place to go
And I'm sure that it's hard, but always too slow
I got a head full of something and nothing to show
Took a casual walk to let off some steam
And I found that maybe we're not what we seem
Why was it always the land and fear of the sea
It may be too late but you could've just asked me
I always find myself stranded with cuts on my face
In some strange part of town where I don't know my place
But I've never left normal
And if that were the case
I could never come back
If my footsteps erased
And the houses are sleeping all down your block
And I'll probably give up just so we can talk
I got a head full of something and nothing to show
For a pocket full of money and no place to go
My brother he's walked from New Zealand to Rome
I crawled to the city and couldn't find my way home
He might never come back by the way taht he talks
As where you always return from casual walks...
