El Paso
.58 Lyrics

Balcony in El Paso
I am currently on a balcony in El Paso

Cigarette butts grace my balcony
My balcony is littered with cigarette butts

And the remains of a dead pigeon seem somewhat poetic
There is a dead pigeon on my balcony and it seems to have a poetic significance

The life form that scurries around below
There are creatures crawling around below my balcony

Is a mixture of Tex-Mex and trailer park trash
The creatures crawling around are a mix of people who are Tex-Mex and people who live in trailer parks

I know you, 'cause I used to live here, too
I recognize the people below my balcony because I used to live here as well

Guess that makes you just like me
The fact that we both live in El Paso makes us similar

That make you wonder about yourself?
Do you ever wonder about yourself because we share the same living situation?

I don't know why
I'm not sure why

I'm here but I can't stay
I am here for now but I cannot remain here

The more things change
As things change

The more they stay the strange
They become more strange despite changing

Sittin' here on this plane
I am currently sitting on a plane

Watchin' the empty faces crawl past me
I am observing the people on the plane as they move by me

You know they all seem to have ingested
It appears as though they have all consumed something

That same melancholy pill
They have all taken something melancholic

Instead of warm, fuzzy and safe
They are not giving off a feeling of warmth, comfort, or safety

They seem cold and judgmental
The people on the plane appear to be distant and critical

Little conversations come in and out of audio focus
I can hear bits and pieces of conversations around me

It's all in slow motion but somehow moving at the
Despite the slow pace, it seems like time is moving quickly

Speed of fear
Time feels like it is moving at a pace similar to that of fear

I feel such the animal, I'm always the animal
I feel like an animal, always in a state of instinctual action

My body's the cage, I'm locked in this cage
My body feels like a prison, trapping me in its confines

My home is worn, it's torn, it's been abused
My home is in a state of disrepair and has been mistreated

And I like it
But I still find comfort in it despite its condition

Here I sit in another hotel and it smells like someone else
I am in a hotel that has a scent of someone else's presence

I lay in bed and I can taste the smell
The smell of the hotel is so strong that I can taste it

They smell of smoke, the drink, the stink
The hotel smells of smoke, alcohol, and filth

And the stain on the floor
There is a visible stain on the floor of the hotel

I wonder was he with his wife?
I am contemplating whether the previous occupant of the hotel was with their spouse

Or another man's whore
Or if they were with someone they were not committed to

Scratches upon the glass
There are scratches on the glass in the hotel room

Tell of the drugs and the radio
The scratches indicate that drugs and the radio were involved in the previous occupant's stay

Is still on to the music that made them dance
The radio is still on to the music that was played during their stay

I bet it was sweet
I imagine that the music and drugs created a pleasant atmosphere

But me?
But despite that,

Fuck man I gotta get some sleep
I am still in need of some rest despite my surroundings