In the warehouse district where the air smells like tyres,
Lights make the sky look like a constant sunrise.
We walked that one night as everything wore off,
Following the river that never once got me lost.
We talked empty band rooms and sold out shows,
With my fingers in the safest hands I know,
And as the familiar click of the front door as it closed,
Assured me I was home.
And if this becomes routine that's fine with me.
Darling I ain’t safe but I'm getting there.
I'm as happy here as anywhere.
And if this becomes routine that's fine with me.
'Cause I can't think of better company not to sleep.
And the smell of running water sings me to sleep now.
We've all slept under bridges darling don't you look so fucking proud.
And from thehardwood floor on the East coast that swallowed us whole,
To the mansion out West where we had what we stole,
To down South, where the pills almost killed me,
To that little slice of paradise a few hours from Sydney.
Thanks for the shows, the beds and the smiles,
We're only ever staying a night, we always stay a little while,
And now this East coast is home to all of us,
But if anyone could put me up tonight that would be glorious.
And if this becomes routine that's fine with me.
'Cause I can't think of better company not to sleep.
And so I'll sit and suck this sitting city dry,
For that perfect pretty sitting city high.
When everything melts and your legs turn to glue.
Until then I'll sit alone and toast the view,
and I'll light your cigarettes for you.
