Francis Lung

2 Real

Francis Lung


She rides high on a Saturday night
Halo gleams under a streetlight
Billboards streaming through tearless eyes
Walk without purpose and her shoes untied

I don't know how we're going to get home now

Let me walk beside you
Let me bend your ear a little
Can you be the real you?
I lost the real me years ago
If you could help me find it
'Cause I don't even know just where to start

First of the worst in a pickup hearse
I got a funny feeling that I'll never be rehearsed
Now I'm feeling worse than you can feel
I want to be real, but not too real
Nothing could be worse than how you feel
I want to be real, but not too real

I don't know how we're going to get home now
I don't know how we're going to get home now

Won't you walk beside me
Won't you bend my ear a little
Could you be the real you?
'Cause I lost the real me years ago
If you could help me find it
'Cause I don't even know just where to start

And now the hour is calling
And now the hour is calling
And now the hour is calling
And now the hour is calling

And now the hour is calling
And now the hour is calling
And now the hour is calling
And now the hour is calling

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