Central Park hostel. Did you know know
in the basement there’s an old piano?
You can figure out love in its notes,
while you’re making it up as you go.

Cuban cigars out on the roof.
American whisky, eighty proof.
But you’re in your own world running loose,
and you’re making it up as you go.

Everyone seem to know how it should all work out,
but it’s all lies. They’re making it up as they go.

Thirty-three hours on the road
with vehicles turning into ghosts
on missions that only you can know,
you are making them up as they go.

Everyone seems to know where it should all end up,
but it’s all lies. They’re making it up as they go.

Tags: lyrics