Time of Glory

Spinning on the turntable, spinning in the microwave
A hundred and seventy six degrees, a one-eighty
And I flip back to look at the man who recognizes me
And wants to give me a hug
He gives me the keys to his flat in green point
If I needed a place to crash
I could sleep on the futon by his bed
But I'm not sure he knows who I am
And I don't even know his name

I shredded on the ukulele at the Turner Cody show
I got loaded with weed from northern Oregon
And at the end of thе night I got well rewarded
With a tickеt for a free drink
The choice is Red Stripe or Pabst
It was my time of glory in New York City

I wrote a letter to my friend in Paris
I played it cool and said I took it easy
I told him how I slept with you
And how it didn't matter to me
And how you couldn't hurt me now
Well, it was kind of true

I almost lied when my mother asked me
If I was making any money
I almost lied but I knew I sucked at it
And confessed that I was broke and couldn't afford a coffee
And was getting skinny
Holes in my three-day shirt
Well, I guess I smell now

I haven't slept in a bed for 12 weeks
I haven't walked my dog in 12 weeks
I've written songs that make me sound so angry
I'll burn a CD and I'll send you a copy