Songs for Tourists

Songs for tourists; some from France
They like the ones with weird instruments
Songs for people that I used to know
They send me invites, but I never go
An ode to heavy eyes, too much space
Too much time to think about this awful place
I've got nothing to prove
I ain't nothing but molecules
I'm doing nothing but wasting words
And breaking my own rules
So I've broken a heart or two
Who's to say mine ain't fucked?
Who's to say I mean anything to anyone?
They're throwing coins in the case
I'm singing out your name, but saying the truth out loud, it just ain't the same
We're crossing state lines, robbing rich food banks
I tried to call you from a payphone last night in some southern state
An ode to our traveling band whose home is the time it takes
To get from gas stations to the ends of interstates
I'm living in this sleeping bag
What city am I in?
I've taken advantage, I miss my best friend
So maybe I've take you for granted
Maybe it's the mind frame I'm in
But none of it means anything if you're alone in the end