Palm trees, you used to sway in my childhood vacation dreams. But now you bend and break, not sure how much more I can take, click my heels to take me home. Photographs, captured moments of better times I had. But as the photo collects dust, and the frame begins to rust, I'm ready to sell off all I own. My face is buried deep in this carpet draping concrete. I wanna be stitched into this floor. My heart's racing to an unmarked finish line. Trembling hands, idling mind. Just turn out the lights before you close the door. Coastline, mis-circumnavigating everything all of the time. Devoid of all emotion, drowning in this fucking ocean, just click my heels to take me home. So sing a tune, this sunshine's stifled behind these clouds of gloom. And as I stumble to my feet, I can feel the summer heat; I'm ready to sell off all I own. Blank face staring back at me, I ask myself the question. Well just what will become of my record collection? And my face is buried deep in this carpet draping concrete. I wanna be stitched into this floor.