[Verse 1]
The nostalgia, instant
Across this cracking tiled hill
From every angle I'm sprouting weeds
Cobblestones climb the slope
Cut by narrow alleys slicing open a hundred years
[Instrumental Interlude]
[Verse 2]
Proudly abandoned houses sit tucked and peeling painted
Bent by their own breeze
New ones drip glossy windows
And plastic realty signs
[Instrumental Interlude]
[Verse 3]
At the top, amid tumbled back-country sprawl
Ropy trees wreath the city view
[Verse 4]
And there, the rusted remains of a net-less hoop
Echoes of shots, made and missed
Clocking safe the darkness
The occasional person greets me like I'm not
[Refrain]
A blank intruder of concealed spots
Pretending I don't fall in love
A blank intruder of concealed spots
Pretending I don't fall in love
[Instrumental Interlude]
[Refrain]
A blank intruder of concealed spots
Pretending I don't fall in love
A blank intruder of concealed spots
Pretending I don't fall in love