The Old Matchbook Trick - Lambchop

The last time that i came here

I came down with a fever

The next day it was gone

With the suddenness of ist arrival

When we all were much younger

Were we really different

In the really real world we knew

Last night i saw the sun rise

Over sleepy barcelona

Riding on a bus

With the road crew from embrace

While everyone was sleeping

I noticed a reflection

And saw the egg upon my face

The last thing i remember

About waking up in kristiansand

Was gagging on my toothbrush

As it brushed across my tongue

And removed a drunken sailor

Paid his bar and porno bill

Gonna have to fuckin' hose him down

The clarity is blinding

Where’s the befuddled middleman

The gentle goofus

With his comedy and wit

Spaced out in the crowd

With the cramped and the cluttered

Falls from your fingers to his hand

Falls from his fingers to your hand

The old matchbook trick

Keeps the table from wobble

Slipped under the short leg

Steadies the unsteadiness

Of the lopsided conversation

Makes a solid place to rest

Arms and thought upon