Текст песни Man Of Maps

As a man of maps As a man of maps I gazed on in Thank christ, turn out the lights Somewhere between the station and the turnpike It's indecision that I don’t like For over 36 moons Third pitcher on a working afternoon Open sky when it’s the 20th of june Ain’t no weekends here As a man of maps, I gazed on in I look back on those days in silence A hundred thousand, maybe more Its hard to count them, falling like dead flowers on the floor My heart is pounding, a pile driver in my chest A warm fountain, cold cigarette As a man of maps, I gazed on in I look back on those days in silence I wish that I would be forgiven, for all those things I’ve done I wish that I would be forgiven, for all those things, all those crazy things I As a man of maps As a man of maps As a man of maps I gazed on in