Walked back to the hotel last night, tired as hell with my band
Madrid was canceled, yeah
Even with all those allegedly competent stage hands
They couldn't fix the calibration on the PA system
And the snare drum was missing
And an amplifier was blown
And the feedback wouldn't stop hissing
They talked in Spanish, I gave them two chances to fix the thing
But they scratched their heads, and among themselves
They kept whispering and whispering
I asked a band member who understands a little bit of Spanish, “What are they saying?”
He shook his head and said, “Don't think this show is happening”

Got into my hotel room and I called Caroline, back in the States
She was cooking a turkey with her parents in LA, it was Thanksgiving Day
Though I was tired, I spent some time blow drying my socks
That I washed in the sink a few V-neck T-shirts and a pair of pants
With some hotel hand soap, the wrapper said “Soap for Joyful Hands”
I went and laid down, under the thin sheets of my Spanish bed
Fell asleep and had a dream about the twin sisters
Whom outside the venue I met
It would have been great to slay the crowd
To thrown down on that stage
But it could not be done with that old dusty outdated PA system
Dialed in for performance art and children's plays and stand-up comedians and magicians
It was not dialed in for dynamic bands who play a few decibels above medium
Before I went to sleep, I called all the guys in my band
About the lobby call in the morning and the basic layout of tomorrow's plans
What time do we leave for Oporto? When will the plane land?
My socks were hanging out to dry on the doorknobs, the curtain rods, on the bedsides stands, even on the lamps
Washed with Madrid tap-water and “Soap for Joyful Hands”

Seat 9C, Iberia Air, al Oporto to Heathrow via Madrid
Last night, we played in a town called Espinho outside of Oporto, Portugal
Our hotel was on the beach and the air smelled so, so wonderfully tide pool-y
I went for a walk along the rocks that went straight out into the ocean
And the rocks started getting slippery
When I got to the edge, I was about to take a photo with my disposable camera
When a sneaker wave came out of nowhere and I got hammered
I walked back to the hotel, drenched with ocean and tide pool in my mouth
Getting drenched by that water out of nowhere, for me, that's what's life's all about
And I even love the routine stuff, the day-to-day-to-day-to-day-to-day
I find poetry in the day-to-day
I find it in the emptiest, loneliest, most boring, and uneventful days
But it's the curveballs that hit us out of nowhere that make us say
"Fuck, thank god I'm alive today!
Thank god I'm alive to taste the ocean today!
Thank god I'm alive to smell the fish soup and boiled shrimp today!"

That sneaker wave woke me up and made me realize what a gift I've been given in life
I've got friends who didn't get this far because they committed suicide
I've got friends who didn't get this far because they had heart attacks and fell off the couch and died
I've got friends who didn't get this far because of cancer, they died
That sneaker wave woke me up and made me realize
What a beautiful gift I've been given
One day I'll wake up in Stockholm snow
And one day I'll wake up to the sunshine in Portugal
Came back to my still-wet clothes
Washed with “Soap For Joyful Hands” and Spanish water
And hung them to dry on the balcony of the hotel on shirt hangers
I went to play the show in Espinho and we sang "I Love Portugal, I Love Portugal”
I told them the story of the first time we played there in the 90's with the Red House Painters
When we played Soul Coughing last minute at a festival
And how we got whistled at and pelted by garbage thrown at us by the fans
And how it made me smile like Satan, how I met two guys named Vasco and Miguel
Who became my very good lifelong friends
After the show last night in Espinho I met a woman who asked
“Mark, besides music, what are your other passions?”
I said, “I'm fifty years old, baby, I find laying on the couch very relaxing
And I also enjoy reading books with my new reading glasses
And I enjoy being 50, and not suffering from pancreatic cancer
And I enjoyed waking up after being anesthetized from a colonoscopy and finding out I didn’t have colon cancer
You want to know what my other passions besides living my dream of playing my music?
Those are your answers”
She said, “I just mean other passions, you know, things besides playing music, dude”
I said, “If I put any effort into other passions
I'd not be here standing in Portugal, talking to you"
I said, “Do you get what I'm saying?
If I had any other passions like dairy farming or freeing animals from the zoo
I'd not be standing here right now in Espinho, Portugal talking to you”
She said, “I'm not sure if you know what I mean
When I ask you if you have other hobbies or passions”
I said, “Look, there are three things I do
I play music and eat and I watch boxing matches
To do what I do for a living, baby, other passions would be called distraction
Having other passions would make me one of those hobbyist musicians who takes twenty years to make four lousy albums”
It was raining outside and I said, “Hey, it's been a nice conversation, but I gotta get going”
And I got in the van with my band and we went to the hotel by the ocean
And I was like, “Fuck, my socks are still wet”
The socks I washed with “Soap For Joyful Hands"
And now they're even more drenched the Oporto rain
And I was like, “Fuck, god damn"
Now I made my Madrid connection
With my plastic bag of wet socks in my luggage bag
On my way to Heathrow and when my plane lands
Going right for the hotel room to hang my socks to dry and wash with “Soap For Joyful Hands”
Now I’m on my way to Heathrow and when my plane lands
Gonna pray that my socks washed with “Soap For Joyful Hands”
Are dry for my show at Shepherd's Bush tomorrow night
Because I don't feel like going to Westfield Mall
And shopping for socks
God, I hate that fucking place
It reminds me of being a kid when I was small and falling to my knees and going
“Mom, let's go home, I'm fucking bored!"

I know you're all thinking, “What's the big deal?
Just go to H&M and buy some new socks”
But maybe you don't think like I do, you see, I'm very sentimental about my socks
They're Christmas gifts from my sister and from my father and my ex-girlfriend's grandmother
And there's a pair that in Ålesund, Norway I bought
I'm very sentimental about my socks
I wanna sleep tomorrow until 3:30 in the afternoon
I'm fucking tired and I need some serious fucking sleep
I've been to fourteen different countries in the last three weeks
Not for the money, not for the ego trip, not for the potential after-show action
I'm here right now because this is my passion
I'm up here right now in front of you
Not because of the decision I made to become a musician
If I wasn't doing this, what else would I be doing?
Do I strike you as a man who would be English teaching?
I'm on airplanes every fucking day
Trying to get from Amsterdam to Helsinki to Espinho to [?] to Warsaw to Oslo to Copenhagen to Dublin to Tel Aviv to Reykjavik to Athens
Because baby, let me tell you something, this is my one life's passion

And if that girl I met in Portugal was here, I think she'd say
"Well, I think I've tapped into one of your other passions
You're on some trip about socks, and it’s totally neurotic"
I'd say, “Yea, whatever you say, but look I wrote a song about it
A captivating song about washing socks in hotel sinks
Who else can give you that? Graham Nash, Steely Dan, or Ed Sheeran, Glenn Hansard?
The only guy in this whole world who could write a poetic song about cheap hotel soap is Jonathan Richman
But it wouldn't be quite like mine, because I'm a unique motherfucker from a town in Ohio called Massillon
Nobody can catch the poetry in washing socks with hand soap at hotels like I can
You see asking me, 'Mark, what are your other passions?'
Would be like me asking Leonardo DiCaprio
'Hey Leo, what are your other passions besides acting?'
He'd call his agent and say
'Please remove this person, he's breaking my concentration'
Now have I made my point? I hope so

And when my plane lands, I hope my socks are dry overnight
That I washed with “Soap For Joyful Hands”
And when my plane lands, I hope my socks will dry overnight
For tomorrow I have a show in Shepherd's Bush that I washed with wintery tap-water and “Soap For Joyful Hands”
And when my plane lands, I hope my socks are dry overnight
That I washed with “Soap For Joyful Hands”
And when my plane lands, I hope my socks will dry overnight
For tomorrow night's show at Shepherd's Bush that I washed with “Soap For Joyful Hands” and Madrid tap-water
And when my plane lands
And when my plane
And when my plane lands
And my plane lands
And when my plane lands