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98.6
Written in about 2 hours, February 20th, 1998. I think this was the first time I realized that all the things I was learning in Ralph Covert's class were converging. Definitely a case of too many words, too little time -- watch my breathing at the live show for clues.
Lyrics:
I think I hate your suitcase
I've seen her open mouth much
More than I've felt yours the last three
Months it seems we're living separate lives
The same for your myopic
Boss, too dim to see how much you're
Needed here, they want you there, why
Does it feel this time you're gone for good?
Ninety eight point six degrees of separation
Stand between me and the warm, bright, funny
Feelings you inspire
Sixteen different flavors of the same old devastation
Overcome me every time we say our premature good-byes
I hate the sound of your car
It's always signaling you're
Coming, going, anything but
Standing still where I can hold you
I hate the Why Not Cafe'
Why should I like it - is it
just because it's just the place I kissed your
Hand in awestruck fascination
Ninety eight point six degrees of separation
Stand between me and the warm, bright, funny
Feelings you inspire
Sixteen different flavors of the same old devastation
Overcome me every time we say our premature good-byes
I changed my clothes and I would
Change my city for you if I
Thought it mattered to you in one
Way or in the other way, they
Say some days are warm and some are
Long and others partly cloudy
What I wouldn't give to know which
One of those today was like for you
I hate your little brother
He's always picking up the
Phone when all I want to hear is
That familiar voice instructing
Me to leave a message at the
Tone, I never do because I
Sense this time you're gone for good, you're
Gone for good, how do I get around these
