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