Magazines

two days and my money's spent

i can't tell you just where i've been

i only gamble when i steal

but i like the way it feels



my hands still smell like a magazine

i keep having the same old dream

everything is what it seems

something's wrong and i'm off to sleep





white knuckles on a baseball bat

i know just where i'm at

sun shone like david copperfield

daddy, tell me it's not real



two feet, knee-deep in doubt

around the bases and at home i'm out

but if you're never home i doubt

that you will ever see me out





parking lot is a hiding place

'cause under the cars you can't see my face