Under neon signs
Across construction lines
Cell towers, homeless trees
Line the streets
Seventeen minutes away
A temporary stay
We're just real-estate
Overpriced, no escape
Third-floor glass-filled walls
Above the urban sprawl
Meet me in the library
Pocket poetry
Drove the ninety-two
Still, I'm a stranger to you
Oakland highway signs
Through your smokestack eyes
Oh I gave my soul to a lonesome mystery
I gave my soul to a lonesome mystery
I gave my soul to a lonesome mystery
I gave my soul to a lonesome mystery
And under neon signs
Across construction lines
Eyes flash and faces pass
Full of questions never asked