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lirik lagu reflections in spain on the subject of my 38th birthday – flugente

[verse 1]
i’m lyin’ on a bed made of mahogany
yellow sheets stretched out under me
thinkin’ about friends i’ve lost
and the life left out in front of me
i got a suitcase filled with dirty clothes
and some of my girlfriend’s toiletries
my clock is set to european time
but i can fix that easily
my pockets are piggybanks for coins
the locals here call money
i read the headlines and the news every day
and some of it strikes me as funny
like a trillion mirrors to be put up in sp-ce
so the earth won’t be so sunny
[chorus]
ooh
baby i’m dyin’ here all alone
come home and pull this fish outta the bowl
baby don’t lie to me, i’ve gotta know
tell me, is 38 soundin’ old?
[verse 2]
and i catch my reflection in the mirror
hits me most recognizably
but something’s a little different
nothing the naked eye can see
and the girl across the hall just said
“don’t hesitate to come to me”
if you have any questions
or need something urgently
and i have many questions
though i ask most of them privately
like “who am i?” and “why am i here?”
i don’t think she knows these things
and all the while i’m pondering
life continues on the street
she said that home is tupperware
an interesting -n-logy
[chorus]
ooh
baby i’m dyin’ here all alone
come home and pull this fish outta the bowl
baby don’t lie to me, i’ve gotta know
tell me, is 38 soundin’ old?
[verse 3]
the bedroom i’m in has five doors
in case of an emergency
but life here moves kind of slow
so i see no need to worry
if something happens call my mom
she’ll know what to do with me
i’d like to be shot into sp-ce on a rocket
try and leave the galaxy
maybe someone finds me there
with knowledge of advanced technology
who can work with raw material
and make me what i always hoped i’d be
relievin’ me of what my father called
responsiblity
[chorus]
ooh
baby i’m dyin’ here all alone
come home and pull this fish outta the bowl
baby don’t lie to me, i’ve gotta know
tell me, is 38 soundin’ old?
[verse 4]
yeah, i’m lyin’ in the bed of a famous artist
but the artist isn’t me
we’re just apartment sitting
and i can do that successfully
the air conditioner has a remote control
i guess you call that luxury
i’m over here in a foreign country
p-ssing the summer leisurely
home is feeling far away
but not quite far enough to be
outta sight and out of mind
no one ever gets that clean
but i have many hotel soaps
they give those complimentary
and i’m gonna scrub until i’m raw
and get some of it off, possibly
[chorus]
ooh
baby i’m dyin’ here all alone
come home and pull this fish outta the bowl
baby don’t lie to me, i’ve gotta know
tell me, is 38 soundin’ old?

- flugente

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