In the long hot summer nights   And in the cold dark winter days   In the clear hours of the early morning   And in the late night drunken haze   I keep on seeing things in the corner of my eye      Like this guy in an old baggy T-shirt   Smiling like he grasped something that   That the rest of us didn't understand   The way he will stand completely still   While the people just walk on by      The girl on a bike, probably on her way home   The girl in a car talking on her phone   The phone girl does not see the bike girl and hits her   And the bike girl makes a sickening sound   As she hits the street and the people scream      And the sad man is standing   Slack jawed in line for potato, sifting through his pockets   Coming up old bus tickets and grocery store receipts   Droopy eyes and baggy black jeans   It's his first time in Oslo      A pretty boy on one of those cruiser bikes   Is checking his bed head hairdo in window   While he talks to beautiful girl   It's something about the wine and Portugal      And the wild man is blocking the way   Of a businessman doing his spasmodic dance   As he screams, ?Take a dump in my head   Take a dump in my head?      We all come home to empty beds   It doesn't matter if anyone's there or not   And we all come home to chock full heads   It doesn't matter what we do or what we got      We all come home to that silent voice   That keeps on talking   And we try to cancel it out   But it keeps on going   Keeps on going like a drone      The good times used to kill me   The good times used to kill me   But now I am good at killing time   Yeah, the good times used to kill me   Now I am good at killing time