Text: Bright Eyes. The People's Key. Approximated Sunlight.

Used to dream of time machines
Now it's been said we're post-everything
As a child, imagining
Neckties and coastlines
I've seen the show, man, what a sight
Drenched us in approximated sunlight
The crowd was small and mostly blind, but kind
You're too kind

Now you are how you were when you were real
Now you are how you were when you were real

There you go again, on that circular trip
Lick the solar plexus of some L.A. shaman
I'm out of breath, I better sit
Been living hard, living

All I do is follow, just follow this hollow you around

I wouldn't waste another thought
On what is fair and what is not
The Quinceanera dress she bought
Was unstitched with bullets

All the guests in the garden screamed
Women and tires squealing
Such opulence, such misery
Unwinding, unwinding

All I do is follow, just follow, just follow this hollow you around

Now you are how you were when you were real