The Old Matchbook Trick - Lambchop

The last time that i came here 
I came down with a fever 
The next day it was gone 
With the suddenness of ist arrival 
When we all were much younger 
Were we really different 
In the really real world we knew 

Last night i saw the sun rise 
Over sleepy barcelona 
Riding on a bus 
With the road crew from embrace 
While everyone was sleeping 
I noticed a reflection 
And saw the egg upon my face 

The last thing i remember 
About waking up in kristiansand 
Was gagging on my toothbrush 
As it brushed across my tongue 
And removed a drunken sailor 
Paid his bar and porno bill 
Gonna have to fuckin' hose him down 

The clarity is blinding 
Where's the befuddled middleman 
The gentle goofus 
With his comedy and wit 
Spaced out in the crowd 
With the cramped and the cluttered 
Falls from your fingers to his hand 
Falls from his fingers to your hand 

The old matchbook trick 
Keeps the table from wobble 
Slipped under the short leg 
Steadies the unsteadiness 
Of the lopsided conversation 
Makes a solid place to rest 
Arms and thought upon