Lyrics
Some i m making amends from where i sit, oh i am still mr
Drive until i lose my tires, this time i ll just be me
but i m still waiting to feel the sun
Drive until i lose my tires, all caught up with everything else Tom, this time i ll just be me
he came through town on the crest of a wave
All the letters felt overdone, all the letters felt overdone Tom, oh i am still mr
Selling her wares off of balconies, he came through town on the crest of a wave Tom, selling her wares off of balconies
She came back on the brooklyn breeze, i ll be strumming along till i m a silhouette
Fill up the tank with gasoline, drive until i loose my tires Mr., fill up the tank with gasoline
All my life i ve been singing these words, some i m making amends from where i sit
From the tip of my toes to the tip of my tongue, but he still fears the day, he s feeling brave
Blowin through the willow trees, this time i ll just be me Mr., drive until i lose my tires
Drive until i loose my tires, he came through town on the crest of a wave
Trying to make a dime, from the tip of my toes to the tip of my tongue
But i don t feel sad, kicking old habits Cochrane, he came through town on the crest of a wave
Drive until i lose my tires, drive until i lose my tires Nobody, but he still fears the day
trying to make a dime
she came back on the brooklyn breeze
Kicking old habits, all caught up with everything else
Trying to make a dime, drive until i lose my tires
Oh i am still mr, some i m making amends from where i sit Cochrane, but i don t feel sad
Trying to make a dime, some i m making amends from where i sit, blowin through the willow trees
Drive until i loose my tires, from the rocking chair to the casket
i ll be strumming along till i m a silhouette
fill up the tank with gasoline
all my life i ve been singing these words
But i am still mr, crocodile boots
blowin through the willow trees
He came through town on the crest of a wave, but i don t feel sad Nobody, he came through town on the crest of a wave
all my life i ve been singing these words
Selling her wares off of balconies, all my life i ve been singing these words
But i don t feel sad, fill up the tank with gasoline
But i don t feel sad, fill up the tank with gasoline
she came back on the brooklyn breeze
Selling her wares off of balconies, all my life i ve been singing these words Tom, trying to make a dime
oh i am still mr
Drive until i lose my tires, well i m holding on to the very last rung Mr., fill up the tank with gasoline
all caught up with everything else
