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Here come the Friday Night Blues again
Call me up to hear silence on your end
Is there a problem connecting, old friend?

So you gave your life to a machine, my dear
Well we're all green-fingered guilty of that sometimes
You fear to be a tourist here, in your own town
To be a tourist and in your own hometown

Raised between trains and gravestones
I kissed him by his family name
Now you took it for your own
But do what you want honey
Love who you will

Where we come from ain't gotta be where we go still

You can always call on me with your Friday Night Blues
Remind me life's part a field
Of what we choose to grow
And what we don't
And what the sun rises up on
What we don't the sun rises up on

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