Traffic inches slowly by
The dreamless sleep of a dead man
Dusty diesel smoke
Small talk for a while, that's the story

Back inside the television
They say base is stolen
The crowd is going wild
And I can't watch this anymore
With bloodshot eyes, she cries some more
And leaves the room half-empty
So I practice throwing baseballs at the yellow plaster wall

I've got a good arm
And that's the story

Skipping through the plaster dust
That's covering the floor
Base is loaded in the night
And someone's gotta score

The ocean is just blocks away
I bet that I could catch a wave
I'll kick the screen out

The first pitch was a wild one and misses
All the glass
Two blocks stopped in traffic
But man she’s making tracks
And traffic inches slowly by
Look up fast and watch the sky
Turn yellow
And everything and everyone
Is fit to fight
Its nine-to-one
I'll shoot this screen out
Cuz I got
I've got good aim

And these sights are all filed down so low
I've tried my best to let it go
But I'm sticking with it

And as she walks into the room
The lights come on and pretty soon
It's over
For a while

And outside in the distance
Out among the broken glass
There’s a bloody baseball holding steady in the grass
And that’s the story
And that’s the story
And I’m-
And I’m sticking with it