I'm good to go,
And I'm going nowhere fast.
It could be worse.
I could be taking you there with me.
I'm good to go,
But it looks like I'm still on my own.
I'm good to go,
For something golden.
Though the motions I've been going through have failed.
And I'm coasting on potential towards the wall,
At a 100 miles an hour.
When I say,
Two more weeks,
My foot is in the door. (Yeah.)
I can't sleep,
In the wake of Saturday. (Saturday.)
Saturday,
When these open doors were open-ended.
Saturday,
When these open doors were open-ended.
Pete and I attacked,
The lost Astoria,
With promise and precision,
And a mess of youthful innocence.
And I read about the afterlife,
But I never really lived more than an hour. (More than an hour.)
When I say,
Two more weeks,
My foot is in the door. (Yeah.)
I can't sleep,
In the wake of Saturday. (Saturday.)
Saturday,
When these open doors were open-ended.
Saturday,
When these open doors were open-ended.
And I read about the afterlife, (I read...)
But I never really lived. (But I never really lived.)
And I read about the afterlife, (I read...)
But I never really lived. (But I never really lived.)
Two more weeks,
My foot is in the door. (Door.)
Me and Pete,
In the wake of Saturday.
Saturday,
When these open doors were open-ended.
Saturday,
When these open doors were open-ended.
Sat-ur-day.
Sat-ur-day.