Phoebe Bridgers

Chelsea

Phoebe Bridgers

Stranger In The Alps


For a chemical imbalance, you sure know how to ride a train
Your revolution is a deathbed, and the music is your maid
When someone comes a knocking with a needle on a tray
Only your lonesome lies beside you
For you told me not to stay
You are somebody's baby, some mother held you near
No it's not important, they're just pretty words, my dear
There is no distraction that can make me disappear
No there's nothing that won't remind you
I will always be right here

And you spit the blood back, spit the blood back
Baby, I'm amazed that you're alright
Oh, so long prison boy, I won't be home with you tonight

We're both very sick, our muscles all worn down
It's as if we are one-hundred—no, I won't still be around
Because I've fallen, yes I've fallen right into the love I found
Long before I reach one-hundred
I'll have fallen to the ground
And for generations
Their romances make us more
It's much less than than ever was before, the Chelsea and the floor
Make us stand before the masses like two speakers for the poor
When there was no revolution
Nothing we were fighting for

And you spit the blood back, spit the blood back
Baby, I'm amazed that you're alright
Oh, so long prison boy, I won't be home
I won't be home
I won't be home with you tonight

And you can call the service bell
When we stay at the Chelsea hotel
And I'll stay out of my own head

Oh, so long prison boy, I won't be home
I won't be home
I won't be home with you tonight

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