Tomorrow's tomorrow

You know that feeling down in
your guts when the right piece
of music comes along. The
accordion that sings of all your
regrets, that reminds you of
a life missed.

It sings for you today for the
love you couldn't save, the love
you couldn't save for all you
tried. It sings for the child thrown
on the stage for a play too old too
bitter too spiteful.

You learn to survive oh fuck
oh fuck oh fuck. And you think
tomorrow's tomorrow.

And you do.

And it is.

You know that feeling down in
your guts when you can't lie
to yourself, the feeling torn
out by the diatonic rhythmic
of an unending balle musette.

You know it well. And you
learn to survive. And you think
tomorrow's tomorrow.

And you do.

And it is.