Where is the real stuff
And when do you know
I got a pocket full of money
And no place to go
And I'm sure that it's hard
But always too slow
I got a head full of something and nothing to show

I took a casual walk to let off some steam
And I found out that maybe we're not what we seem
Why was it always the land and fear of the sea
And maybe too late
But you could've just asked me

I always find myself stranded with cuts on my face
In some strange part of town where I don't know my place
But I've never left normal if that were the case
I could [bad word] back if my footsteps erased

And the houses are sleeping
All down your block
And I'll probably give up
Just so we can talk
I got a head full of something
And nothing to show
For a pocket full of money
And no place to go

My brother he's walked from New Zealand to Rome
I crawled to the city
And I couldn't find my way home
He might [bad word] back
By the way that he talks
Whereas he always returned
From casual walks