We don’t believe in rheumatism and true love until after the first attack.
Marie E. Eschenbach
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Tonight's the Kind of Night
There's a boy with his head,
Pressed up to the window,
Of a bus heading out of town,
In his breath on the glass,
He draws with his finger,
A map of the roads they go down,
Circles of street lights,
Are the only signal,
That there's people out there in the black,
He waves goodbye, to the town he grew up in,
He knows that he'll never come back,
The night outside is five below,
His heart is pumping blood,
On his lips a perfect smile,
His eyes begin to flood,
Because tonight's the kind of night,
Where everything could change,
Tonight's the kind of night,
Where everything could change,
The rumble strip clack,
And the rattling frame,
Beat out a pulse on his head,
The engine hums, a humble tune,
A melody of rubber and lead,
Under lamp light glow,
And paradise stars,
An infinity of dancing white light,
He sees that his debt,
Is to experience only,
And not to those who'd plan out his life,
The night outside is five below,
The moon is in the sky,
His heart is full of perfect joy,
He whispers his goodbye,
Because tonight's the kind of night,
Where everything could change,
Tonight's the kind of night,
Where everything could change,
And tonight he's not gonna come back home,
Oh tonight he's not gonna come back home,
Oh tonight he's not gonna come back home,
Oh
Oh
Oh tonight's the kind of night,
Where everything could change,
Tonight's the kind of night,
Where everything could change,
Tonight's the kind of night,
Where everything could change,
Tonight's the kind of night,
Where everything could change,