This is side one...

Counting Crows, ‘Round Here’

Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog
Where no one notices the contrast of white on white.
And in between the moon and you the angels get a better view
Of the crumbling difference between wrong and right.
I walk in the air, between the rain, through myself and back again;
Where? I don’t know.
Maria says she’s dying, through the door I hear her crying;
Why? I don’t know.

Round here we always stand up straight.
Round here something radiates.

Maria came from Nashville with a suitcase in her hand,
She said she’d like to meet a boy who looks like Elvis.
She walks along the edge of where the ocean meets the land
Just like she’s walking on a wire in the circus.
She parks her car outside of my house and takes her clothes off,
Says she’s close to understanding Jesus.
She knows she’s more than just a little misunderstood,
She has trouble acting normal when she’s nervous.

Round here we’re carving out our names.
Round here we all look the same.
Round here we talk just like lions, but we sacrifice like lambs.
Round here she’s slipping through my hands.

Oohhh sleeping children better run like the wind, out of the lightning dream.
Mama’s little baby better get herself in out of the lightning.

She says, “It’s only in my head.”
She says, “Sshhh… I know it’s only in my head.”

But the girl on the car in the parking lot says:
“Man, you should try to take a shot. Can’t you see my walls are crumblin’?”
Then she looks up at the building and says she’s thinkin’ of jumping.
She says she’s tired of life, she must be tired of something.

Round here she’s always on my mind.
Round here (Hey man) we got lots of time.
Round here we’re never sent to bed early and nobody makes us wait.
Round here we stay up very, very, very, very late.

I can’t see nothing, nothing round here.
Won’t you catch me if I’m falling?
Won’t you catch me if I’m falling?
Won’t you catch me ‘cause I’m falling down on you.

I said I’m under the gun round here.
Oh man, I said I’m under the gun round here.
And I can’t see nothing, nothing round here.

Counting Crows, ‘Mrs. Potter’s Lullaby’

Well I woke up in mid-afternoon ‘cause that’s when it all hurts the most.
I dream I never know anyone at the party and I’m always the host.
If dreams are like movies, then memories are films about ghosts.
You can never escape, you can only move south down the coast.

Well, I am an idiot walking a tightrope of fortune and fame;
I am an acrobat swinging trapezes through circles of flame.
If you’ve never stared off in the distance, then your life is a shame.
And though I’ll never forget your face,
Sometimes I can’t remember my name.

Hey Mrs. Potter don’t cry.
Hey Mrs. Potter I know why but
Hey Mrs. Potter won’t you talk to me?

Well, there’s a piece of Maria in every song that I sing.
And the price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow it brings.
And there is always one last light to turn out and one last bell to ring.
And the last one out of the circus has to lock up everything,

Or the elephants will get out and forget to remember what you said,
And the ghosts of the tilt-a-whirl will linger inside of your head,
And the ferris wheel junkies will spin there forever instead.
When I see you a blanket of stars covers me in my bed.

Hey Mrs. Potter don’t go.
Hey Mrs. Potter I don’t know but
Hey Mrs. Potter won’t you talk to me?

All the blue light reflections that color my mind when I sleep;
And the lovesick rejections that accompany the company I keep.
All the razor perceptions that cut just a little too deep.
Hey I can bleed as well as anyone, but I need someone to help me sleep.

So I throw my hand into the air and it swims in the beams,
It’s just a brief interruption of the swirling dust sparkle jet stream.
Well, I know I don’t know you and you’re probably not what you seem,
But I’d sure like to find out
So why don’t you climb down off that movie screen.

Hey Mrs. Potter don’t turn.
Hey Mrs. Potter I burn for you.
Hey Mrs. Potter won’t you talk to me?

When the last king of Hollywood shatters his glass on the floor
And orders another.
Well, I wonder what he did that for.
That’s when I know that I have to get out ‘cause I have been there before.
So I gave up my seat at the bar and I head for the door.

We drove out to the desert just to lie down beneath this bowl of stars.
We stand up in the palace like it’s the last of the great pioneer town bars.
We shout out these songs against the clang of electric guitars.
You can see a million miles tonight,
But you can’t get very far.
Oh, you can see a million miles tonight,
But you can’t get very far.

Hey Mrs. Potter I won’t touch.
Hey Mrs. Potter it’s not much but
Hey Mrs. Potter won’t you talk to me?