When the memory is a blank page And the teeth in your Mouth are all cliches You heart is a bag of rocks Your Soul is a pile of ashes on the sidewalk There's an eagle Scout project I used to come to to feel some kind of magic Now a story less - we'll wait out the days Wait out the days 'Til death comes to claim Anything that Life didn't already take You can wait out the days The catch 22s are all catching up with you They're laying All over the middle ground You were walking on to avoid 'Em and it's too late to turn around On the corner of Morisson There's a shop that sells bracelets and little glass ornaments Looking in you can feel the magic and wait out the days