They say necessity is the mother of invention. I say you are a sucker for attention, always stumbling through the town, looking quietly around, for somebody to offer up their hand. No one understands half the shit you do, putting life into days i planned to sleep though. But it's really just a joke and its starting to get old, always beeing your ace in the hole. You are so slow, you are the slow burhing flame. The dam it broke wihen the day got one more clockstroke. In this bubble that we live just south of Park Slope. And i've seen these faces out, the boys you gave the run around, apologize until they let their guard down. now its Halloween so it's all just make believe, and the leaves are brown, but the boys are green with envy. So as we sit inside this bender, watch the bottle reinvent her, just one sip, no maybe two or three. You are so slow, you are the slow burning flame. Fog stumbles in, the city starts to dim, oh how long, how long this gonna stay? Gotta grow up now, I won't get in the way.