Rilo Kiley Follow

Happy birthday.
You're halfway to sixty.
You have no land of your own,
A job you despise and a lover that's mean.

And you started noticing a disturbing thing;
Birds eating other birds, just beyond the screen.
So packed up your things and you hopped on the freeway headed east,
And you drove for eight days, aimlessly.

Telling yourself to be humble, singing yourself to be free,
Being full aware that it's a middle-aged crisis type thing.

And you drove 'til you saw a sign for a town called luckey
Spelled l-u-c-k-e-y
Where the sugar towers rise to line and meet the streets.
Checked into a motel, slept on cardboard sheets
That covered the blood-stained matress underneath.
Went to the local bar and you got yourself a drink.

Telling yourself to be humble, singing yourself to be free.
It's a middle-aged crisis type thing.

It was the most rag-tag group you had ever seen;
A splendid man with a moustache on both sides, nothing in-between,
Looking like a preacher's son who had given into the devil-worshipping scene.
He was a real looker and he bought you a drink.
And you proceeded to tell him everything
And you were getting a bit hysterical, it seemed.
You laughed like a carburetor and then you screamed
All the doubt and the disbelief.

Telling yourself to be humble, singing yourself to be free.
It's a middle aged crisis type thing

And he told you how he came to be as an altar boy by his father's knees,
And how he came to lose his faith.
There was no touching, but advances were made...
And his father's hand in slow motion, it was approaching him
And the doubt and disbelief crept over his young heart like the black ocean.
A storm cloud, a hurricane, if you will...
A storm cloud, a hurricane...

Telling yourself to be humble, singing yourself to be free.
It's a middle-aged crisis type thing.

Go home late, find yourself happy.
It's just a middle-aged crisis type thing.
It's a middle-aged crisis type thing.
It's a middle-aged crisis type thing.

It's a middle-aged crisis type thing.
It's a middle-aged crisis type thing.
It's a middle-aged crisis type thing