wilco
art of almost
I can't be so far away from my wasteland I'll never know when I might ambulance Or hoist their hearts with my own hands Almost.. almost... I heard a faint old age lover I had other ways to help myself By calling out, open up my heart and fall And I blame it all on dust, the art of almost Almost.. almost... I hold it up, shake the grade Disobey across the waves, tomorrow I have all the love I can ever ache And I leave the most with you, art of almost Almost.. almost...