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The Russian Futurists

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The Russian Futurists

Paul Simon

There's this one word, it's called comfort,
It's the strangest, most dangerous place I could hide
It's a wonder, this cold comfort
Hasn't hollowed and swallowed you and I from inside
You're my first pint, on the worst nights
My gut knots up, my heart bursts like
A piá±ata pops, this has gotta stop, watch the water drop from clouds, it sure rains a lot
And I've felt how a heart melts down
I'm so burnt out; I'm a shell now
It's the worst of lows, it's the first to go, it's the last to come back when the sun melts the snow
What I'm giving, you is taking,
Lots of lying and some faking
Have I gone too far? Am I too far gone? I've been up all night and fight to keep out the dawn
And we've felt how our hearts melt down
We're so burnt out; we're a shell now
It's the worst of lows, it's the first to go, it's the last to come back when the sun melts the snow