Something to Talk About / badly Drawn Boy

The music here smushed together, too, under him singing. I try to make everything stand out more.
I sit in the parking lot or in that café in Malibu waiting for Jackson’s kindergarten to let out.

Ooh, something to talk about.

The guitar solo with the phaser. Or the flanger or whatever it is. And a clarinet under all that.
You’ve got to let me in or let me out. I would sit there in the car sometimes and watch them circle, waiting for a place. Deitrich’s coffee, with the high ceiling.