Back, back, way back
I used to front like Angkor Wat, Mechanicsburg, Anchorage and Dar es Salaam
While home in New York was champagne and disco
Tapes from LA/San Francisco
But actually Oakland and not Alameda
Your girl was in Berkeley with her communist reader
Mine was entombed within boombox and Walkman
I was a hoarder but girl, that was back then

The gloves are off, the wisdom teeth are out
What you on about?
I feel it in my bones, I feel it in my bones

I’m stronger now, I’m ready for the house
Such a modest mouse
I can’t do it alone, I can’t do it alone

Ancestors told me that their girl was better
She’s richer than Croesus, she’s tougher than leather
I just ignored all the tales of a past life
Stale conversation deserves but a bread knife
And punks who would laugh when they saw us together
Well they didn’t know how to dress for the weather
I can still see them there huddled on Astor
Snow falling slow to the sound of the Master


Wisdom’s a gift but you’d trade it for youth
Age is an honor – it’s still not the truth
We saw the stars when they hid from the world
You cursed the sun when it stepped to your girl
Maybe she’s gone and I can’t resurrect her
The truth is she doesn’t need me to protect her
We know the true death – the true way of all flesh
Everyone’s dying but girl – you’re not old yet


Music by Ezra Koenig, Rostam Batmanglij, Chris Tomson and Chris Baio / Lyrics by Ezra Koenig / Produced by Rostam Batmanglij and Ariel Rechtshaid

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