Death Cab For Cutie | Song For Kelly Huckaby

Photographs of the best time you had, windows smugded by the speed | Leaving home with our bags from Iron Street, as morning turned into California, and smoke trailed from the butt of my cigarette | Our glass house it threw rocks at all those it past | Waking up to the sound of 5 A.M to take my turn at the wheel | Climbed up Shasta, oh how the engine ached as the sun tortured California, and old alleys turned deep at the heart of me | Murals of heros defacing the blank concrete | Vision tunneled, Mission Street, hunger beat lodged out as the engine wheezed | Still moving regardless of stable ground and this stable ground | Photographs of the best time you had, windows smugded by the speed | Leaving home with our bags from Iron street as morning turned into California.

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