The Strokes are playing Hard Rock tonight and I've been up all of ten minutes, already too wired to sit still. Tell me you'd meet me at the rail.
The Strokes are playing Hard Rock tonight and I've been up all of ten minutes, already too wired to sit still. Tell me you'd meet me at the rail.
The bass from Capriati's set is still shaking through me and I couldn't keep my hands off myself in the back of this car. Tell me what you'd do if you were the one driving.
Game day energy in this parking lot is unreal and I dressed for the heat, not the crowd. Tell me you'd pull this jersey off me before kickoff.
The bass at Churchill's is doing something to my whole body and I haven't even finished my first drink. Tell me you could keep up with me on this floor.
Song finally clicked around three and now I can't shut my brain off — my hands found their own way to wind down. Come help me come down from this.
Coffee's barely brewed and the whole city is still half asleep but the light coming through here is already too good to waste. Tell me you'd come share this railing with me.
Still wearing everything from last night and the morning's doing more for it than the dark ever did. Tell me you'd let me crash for a few hours before round two.
Still got Ben UFO running through my head and a notebook full of stolen bass lines I can't sit still long enough to finish. Tell me what you'd do if you found me on this curb.
Hundred-year-old bar and I can't even make it through the block party without ending up in the bathroom like this. Tell me you'd walk in and make me finish what I started.
The Urban Film Festival pulled me into the darkest seat in the Lyric and I'm not coming up for air anytime soon. Tell me you'd sit through every screening with me or pull me out of here.