Testo His song is sung Lambchop

His song is sung

The room is warmer than it should be
The light in there was barely there
Slip on past it to the office
To find you slumped down in your chair

In the glowing of the desktop
There was a yellow legal pad
And on the pages he had written
Numbers from his past

In the spring the view was better
And I smell the age on your right hand
Connect the keyboard to the light switch
Let the wheels begin to turn

We talked the other night
And it was all there in the numbers
Behind your wall of photos
Is what shaped the focus of his day

I confess I have no purpose
I'm not complaining
Now these days are measured by the number
Thirty summers from today

We speak in loose abstracted thought
Waiting for a place to fill
It's not the content of the doing
But what you're feeling in the end

You could stay around forever
Till I remember where the focus was
I can see it as the wind blows
All the leaves upon the floor

Across the interstate the world is like another world
And I wanna believe in that
It should get easier with time
And I'm an unnamed bird that sings this same sad song
And my song is sung
That's how I wanna believe in that
And it gets edgier with time
No one's edgier than I