The Sweet Part of the City

Back when we were living up on Hennepin,
she kept threatening to turn us in.
At night she mostly liked us.
We used to pass around the thermos.
Some nights she was gorgeous.

We were living it.
We delivered it.
We didn't feel a thing.
We were living in the sweet part of the city.
The parts with the bars and restaurants.
We used to meet underneath the marquis.
We used to nod off in the matinees.
She always claimed that she was from Tennessee
and now it seems to me
like distance doesn't equal rate and time no more.
It's like gravity doesn't apply.
No, everything sparkles and appears like we're on wheels.
It was dark, but I guess that's the deal.

St. Theresa showed up wearin' see-through.
It was standard issue.
We went out to get some more wine.

But it's a long haul to the corner store from the center of the universe
when you can't get your car off the curb.

We were livin' it.
We delivered it.
We didn't feel a thing.
We were in heaven then.

The sweet part of the city.
The parts with the bars and restaurants.
So we shot ourselves out into outer space.
It was tough to place the after taste.
It was stark, but it was spacious.

It's a long way from Cedar-Riverside to Cedar Sinai,
three times St. Paul to Cheyenne.
And it's a long way from Sacramento, too.
We were bored, so we started a band.

We like to play for you.
We like to pray for you.
We like to pray for you.
We like to play for you.