Friday, September 05, 2008

Closing time

Sometimes, perhaps at the end of a short week that feels paradoxically long, or perhaps when you're feeling strangely fine, the office whispers to you in semisonic tones: "You don't have to go home but you can't stay here." That's when you know it's closing time:

  • Closing time — open all the doors and let you out into the world.
  • Closing time — turn all of the lights on over every boy and every girl.
  • Closing time — one last call for alcohol, so finish your whiskey or beer.
  • Closing time — you don't have to go home but you can't stay here.

  • I know who I want to take me home.
  • I know who I want to take me home.
  • I know who I want to take me home.
  • Take me home . . . 

  • Closing time — time for you to go back to the places you will be from.
  • Closing time — this room won't be open till your brothers or your sisters come.
  • So gather up your jackets, and move it to the exits — I hope you have found a friend.
  • Closing time — every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.

  • Yeah, I know who I want to take me home.
  • I know who I want to take me home.
  • I know who I want to take me home.
  • Take me home . . . .

  • Closing time — time for you to go back to the places you will be from . . . .

  • I know who I want to take me home.
  • I know who I want to take me home.
  • I know who I want to take me home.
  • Take me home . . . .

  • Closing time — every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.

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