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I wound up in a cold, dark, lonely forest
With trees so high they nearly disappeared
In the sky a small bird was flying around
The leaves on the trees were falling

I felt as though that bird seemed quite familiar
I remembered that his name was "Parking Lot"
Me and that bird fell beneath a tree in the snow
And died several years ago

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All my friends came calling
Thinking that I'd gone lost
All of them were searching
For me and Parking Lot

We left for a house up on the hillside
With broken stairs and graffiti on the walls
The kid, that's where he lived, wrote for a magazine
And we all stood outside talking
The owner was a man from Texas
Who had left the place and brought his family
The kid extended an invitation to me
To stay for as long as I needed

After a few years the man got homesick
He moved back in and started cleaning up
And even though I was never lost with Parking Lot
I was glad to have friends who'd come find me

When all my friends came calling
Thinking that I had gone lost
I was simply sleeping
In a parking lot
When all my friends came searching
Looking for my ghost
I was lost inside a dream
In a parking lot

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