(Originally by The Postal Service)

Smeared black ink;
Your palms are sweaty,
And I'm barely listening
To last demands.
I'm staring at the asphalt wondering
What's buried underneath where I am.

I'll wear my badge,
A vinyl sticker with big block letters,
Adherent to my chest,
That tells your new friends
I am a visitor here: I am not permanent.
And the only thing keeping me dry is

It seems so out of context,
In this gaudy apartment complex:
A stranger with your door key,
Explaining that I'm just visiting
And I am finally seeing
Why I was the one worth leaving

The district sleeps alone tonight,
After the bars turn out their lights,
And send the autos swerving
Into the loneliest evening,
And I am finally seeing.
Why I was the one worth leaving.