And I saw your father drinking at a snowed in dive bar where the mirrors and the men they all look like God.
And I saw your mother winking somewhere behind my back and I saw all those lines we could never cross.
I am going, I am going, I am gone.
And dreams are made of things that have to go away like helium balloons or hangover headaches.
And I was walking home from Boston looking for my final home and I wrote you a letter but I lost it went searching for a pay phone.
'Cause when I die, I will die all alone.
The lead singer of punk band Camp Cope ventures into romantic synth-pop territory, tempering slick arrangements with bare sentiment.
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