One, two, three, four
♪
Next to Hudson Yards
It's crowded on the weekdays
From April to May
Parse apart a troubled heart from an E Train
And sing about it in L.A.
And clouds in your rearview
You start humming along
To the first verse
Of your favourite song
That you quote each day with the words all wrong
So call me when the world looks bleak
I love you but it's hard to believe
With every day we'll start to see
The rest is metamodernity
♪
With agrestic charm
It's humid in the midwest
From June to July
All beneath a pinkish sky from the wildfires
Which mantle the horizon line
♪
From the outset
It's been hard to tell
Why you'd feel this down
When it all bodes well
So call me when the world looks bleak
I love you but it's hard to believe
With every day we'll start to see
The rest is metamodernity