We live for parking lots And waiting around for no reason Guilty for nothing Nothing so subtle Onlookers make up a strange herd of listeners We have been here before Aligned with the blankness of buildings Shifting and halting Taking a half-step Constantly mumbling is making a comback The patterns keep proving that all things get better All winter The backs of heads make better friends All winter long There is a well of tires Outside South Strafford and Sharon Repeating the nature Is coming together Take off the next place to get through the weather I've seen the records And all things get better