Lights burning, voice dry and hoarse
She took the Oldsmobile out past Condor Avenue
They took away the bottle and the hat he was under
What a shitty thing to say, did you really mean it?
The fairground's lit, a drunk man sits
Sound of the car driving off made me feel diseased
She took the Oldsmobile out past Condor Avenue
That's the one thing that he could never do
They never get uptight when a moth gets crushed
Publishers: SPENT BULLETS, UNIVERSAL MUSIC - CAREERS
A sick shouting like you hear at the fairground
Looking for some kind of clue
You're in your Oldsmobile driving by the moon
The chimes fell over each other, I fell onto my knees
Unless a light bulb really loved him very much
I'm lying down, blowing smoke from my cigarette
You can do whatever the hell you want to
By the gate she's driving through
I threw the screen door like a bastard back and forth
It'll make a whisper out of you
I wish that car had never been discovered
And someone's burning out on Condor Avenue
To take a little nap while the road is straight
And it'll make a whisper out of you
She took the Oldsmobile out past Condor Avenue
Cops were running around the scene
I don't know what to do with your clothes or your letters
Looks like he's buried in the sand at the beach
Songwriter: Elliot Smith
Now I'm picking up to put away anything of yours that's still around
Headlights burning bright ahead of you
Got his hat tipped bottle back in between his teeth
Trying to make a whisper out of you
Little whisper smoke signs that you'll never get
You never said a word to me about what passed between us
She locked the car an' slipped past into rhythmic quietude
So now I'm leaving you alone
I can't think about you driving off to leave barely awake