I got this thing for things that make no sensenLike on the ride to work in most morningnI tell myself to keep your eyes on the roadnCause some bridge will open up and we'll just fall right throughnnWith this fear comes a comfort in routinenI know where I'll be when gravity finally comes for menSometimes I drink to thatnSometimes I had to medicatenSometimes I'm causing troublenSometimes I just go on and fake itnnBut oh, what have the miles done to me?nnAnd with you--oh you--I never question itnYou got a thing for things that make no sensenI know you now, I knew you back thennWhen I was into loud talkers and you, good lookersnnWe found a bench, had a picnic off the HudsonnI pulled a bottle from deep inside this backpacknI said, the buildings are like kingdoms of the casino kindnYou pulled the cork and we both drank to thatnnOh, these paper cups and plastic platesnBut oh, it's the first thing to make sense all daynHope it's not all she wrotenI hope, my God, I said it right right nownnIn this face I see a history similarnIn this past I see nothing but remindersnWhen I say things like this I could just sit here all nightnWorry about the morning just making no sensen