amsterdam, song 2

n every city there's a time and a place where you can buy stolen things -
I'm standing there, waiting for you
but there's an ocean of questions flowing between us now
and your answers just aren't coming through

if you can guess what this city is selling tonight
then all of it's yours
but you don't speak the language and you don't know the currency
so she's closing her doors

your letter came on Sunday - about a year too late
you called, I guess to remind me of how much was at stake
come on, baby - give me some credit
for falling apart
give me ten drinks and a telephone
and I could break your heart

sometimes trust becomes a habit
and betrayal a metaphor
we fell in love with the language but I don't know what I'm doing here
so I won't anymore

sometimes you pretend you don't have any choices
when the fact is, you're free
or maybe the problem was just too many voices
or maybe too many fingers pointing at me
just remember as I’m turning away -
I wanted to stay