Lyrics:

Typing Letters To The Dead
late At Night On A Closed Piano Lid
she Circles Past, She Fills Your Glass
but She Doesnt Recognise The Song
once In A Lifetime She Says
the Waking Life Stitched Together In Your Head
well, What If Its Only Worth
the Bundle Of Nerves Its Written On
and I Dont Need These Arms Anymore
i Dont Need This Heart Now, To Love
i Dont Need This Skin And Bone At All
theres A Way Youve Alwys Known Her
telephone Between Her Cheek And Her Shoulder
and Eyes Like Crystal Balls
that Just Wont Shut Up About The Future Of The Future
and Ramona Was A Waitress
all But Made Of Information
in A Bar Under The Third Bridge
she Says Shes Looking Forward To Living Forever
when I Wont Need These Arms Anymore
when I Wont Need This Heart Now To Love
and I Wont Need This Skin And Bone At All
at All...
and Ramona Was A Waitress...