No Place - Ezra Furman

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No Place Lyrics

I found out on a Monday
The city I love doesn't love me
In fact fuck that
It would rather see me dead
I hesitated for a minute
But I packed my bag that evening

Didn't tell you I was leaving
I didn't feel safe staying here
So I just left

Got in my red Camaro
In my head no tomorrow
Realized it had all been borrowed time
That I was living on til now
The sun came up less friendly
My sense of safety dead before the
Red sky gave way to cold blue
I wonder who I might be now

From the wrong road, miles from no place
From the road I call and call
This whole world is no place
This world is no place at all

No place for a creature like me
So if you're like me indeed
Meet me somewhere way out
On the outer outskirts of town
At the BP diesel station
In my sick imagination
You're already on your way to take my
Hand and hold me up so I don't drown

I just pray you get this letter
I hid it in your sweater drawer
So the authorities could never see the
Plan that I put down
But all the warming weather
May mean that you won't ever
Reach into the secret drawer, and maybe
You'd inform the landlord anyway
Let me say it again, in a better way

I need a pile of rubble
To call my domicile
Far from the violent rabble, and could I
Trouble you to come along
And listen to me babble
How long will we babble on in exile
Babble on in exile
Something tells me I may be
Singing this song a long, long while
But I'll be bringing along a big broad smile
To wear as I walk that final long mile
Back to the city where they broke my
Heart wide open bleeding on the marble
Tile

From the wrong road, miles from no place
From the road I call and call
This whole world is no place
This world is no place at all

Lyrics provided by LyricsEver.com
Ezra Furman is a singer and songwriter from Chicago, Illinois. It is difficult to peg him as part of a single musical genre because he loves to experiment with different styles of songwriting. Suffice it to say that Ezra makes up songs and plays them on his acoustic guitar with ferocious energy and gut wrenching sincerity. His music is derivative of, but never completely part of, a number of musical genres: rock, blues, punk, folk and pop are some prime examples.

Since Ezra got a guitar for his bar mitzvah, he's been working relentlessly toward capturing some of the grandeur, mystery, pain and headlong wildness of life in song. The results are by turns beautiful, charming, funny, angry, poignant and inspirational. He hopes you enjoy it.
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Ezra Furman