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Jeremy Messersmith

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Jeremy Messersmith

The Commuter

Some nights I can't feel my beating heart,
I've got a second-hand body made with junk-yard parts.
An (ink-blot?) head that makes it hard to care,
Broke-down hands won't get me anywhere.

But when I drive this car to work
I feel like I'm going places,
Landscapes all around me seem to change.
And when I drive this car to work
I feel like I'm made of something,
Some day things will start to go my way.

I spend my evenings lying on this couch,
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Countin' all the cracks in this old house.
TV dinner boxes on the floor,
I'm down 'cause you don't live here anymore.

But when I drive this car to work
I feel like I'm going places,
Landscapes all around me seem to change.
And when I drive this car to work
I feel like I'm made of something,
Some day things will start to go my way.