I remember the shelter
it was not a postcard
it was not a dream
it was made of concrete
and we could lay there
watching the rain

it was not a postcard
it was not a dream
it was made of concrete
and we could lay there
watching the rain

and it helped a bit in between the bitter things

and when the center is gone
and what’s around feels fake
just leave the wrap behind
that’s all it takes
you’ll find that place to hide
and those who came before
they wrote on every wall
"we’ll walk along your way"

and it helps a bit in between the bitter things
in between the bitter things
in between the bitter things

I remember the shelter
it was not a postcard
it was not a dream
it was made of concrete
and we could lay there
watching the rain