Track Insight / Lyrics
You drag the dolly down on Sixth, its wheels still got hubcaps
A Tuesday, you said, the rain is just that grey soup again
The cart groans past the bodega where the old man got a chair
And you think, "Son, I hauled worse than a wheelie bin"
Roll it in, roll it in, under the awning's lip
The string section swells like a fare at two A M
You got a muted trumpet in your rearview mirror
And the cart just says "Thank you, buddy, I'm done for the day"
You park the cab, the engine ticks like it got opinions
The wipers slap the glass, a metronome for no one
You push the cart into the lot, it parks crooked, no problem
An old driver's rule: a dolly's job ain't done when nested
Roll it in, roll it in, under the awning's lip
The string section swells like a fare at two A M
You got a muted trumpet in your rearview mirror
And the cart just says "Thank you, buddy, I'm done for the day"
