Tachycardia - Conor Oberst

It’s a mass grave

A dollar-fifty resting place

On the north face

It’s a rope I’ve gotta climb

I’m a stone’s throw from everyone I love and know

But I can’t show up looking like I do

In an old suit my hair is slicked up back nice and smooth

In a courtroom, sweat rolling down my back

It’s a bad dream

I have it seven times a week

No it’s not me

But I’m the one who has to die

Needs a cold draw to slow his tachycardia

In a dark bar the world just melts away

And he feels fine

If he can just lose track of time

It’s a good sign when he can’t stay awake

On a slow day the rain against the windowpane of the cafe

She spills the coffee grounds

And the same thought hits her like cinder block

Life’s an odd job that she don’t got the nerve to quit

Yeah it’s just there

At the bottom of those spiral stairs

It’s the World’s Fair

The future’s on display

In the still night

They turned on the electric lights

And the crowd cried out

Everyone looks so amazed