I've got my eyes on the sunrise
Meet me at the gate
And tell me I'm your yesterday

There's a nail in your skull
And you're pulling it free,
I can see
But it's not my place to help

Instead, I'll read mysteries in the café
By the waterside and wish you the best
With your boy trouble in the Golden State
But I really wish you'd
Ask me for advice one of these days

We're the bezel-born,
Birthed on the outskirts
Of all that's known to
The world that chewed us up and
Spat us out

I know my place,
Little angel,
And the time;
It's on the little silver band
On my wrist and
All you have to do is ask