The Romantic

I left my heart in Boston
In a shitty basement in Allston
Where remnants of tenants past
Rot among a trailer axle and boxes
The landlord, he still calls me
Says «You don’t live here anymore
So I suggest you make like a tree and son
Just get the hell out of here, or else.»
It can’t get much lower than this
And if I hit rock bottom and still I miss
Will there ever be a time to tell my kids
How I used to be a romantic
It can’t get much lower than this
If I don’t make it out and somehow live
Just make me sound cool and tell the kids
How I used to be a romantic
Chasing pipe dreams I had in the ‘90s
With friends stretched as thin and as worn out as my credit
Another trip, another rip
In this 15-passenger death ride
Half asleep in a van parked outside
The glorious shit castle I used to reside
I still have the keys to all of the doors
But will someone let me inside?
Let me in
It’s all happening
I’ll be damned if I end up dead at a desk
I’ll take my chances on I-80 West