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​Time Of Glory/ Nyc

This song is by Herman Düne.

Spinning on the turntable, spinning in the microwave
A hundred and seventy six degrees, a one eighty
And I flip back to look at the man who recognizes me
And wants to give me a hug
He gives me the keys to his flat in green point
If I needed a place to crash
I could sleep on the futon by his bed
But I'm not sure he knows who I am
And I don't even know his name
I shredded on the ukulele at the turner cody show
I got loaded with weed from northern oregon
At the end of the night I got well rewarded
With a ticket for a free drink
The choice is red stripe or pabst
It was my time of glory/ new york city
I wrote a letter to my friend in paris
I played it cool and said I took it easy
I told him how I slept with you
And how it didn't matter to me
And how you couldn't hurt me now
Well it was kind of true
I almost lied when my mother asked me
If I was making any money
I almost lied but I knew I sucked at it
And confessed that I was broke
And couldn't afford her coffee and was getting skinny
Holes in my 3 days shirt well I guess I smell now
I haven't slept in my bed for 12 weeks
I haven't walked my dog in 12 weeks
I've written songs that make me sound woohoo so angry
I'll burn a CD and I'll send you a copy