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E<\/span>ach new dream… same as the last.<\/p>\n And yet they kept on coming. A procession of rosy futures… glimmering… flickering… fading.<\/p>\n He stared at the surface of the coffee sitting in the stained mug on his warehouse desk. There was just something wrong with the way he was doing this life thing…<\/p>\n A decade earlier, starting out in life, he thought he had it all lined up. A smart, cute, funny girlfriend who put up with his bullshit, his wandering eye, his compulsive, no-end-to-it truth-telling. (“Well, at least I never lied to you!” he said way too often to his tearful, agonized girlfriend.)<\/p>\n But now, looking at a string of broken relationships stretching back to those golden-seeming days, it looked like an empty, bitter joke…<\/p>\n But, as always, a new dream would come… a new girl, a new set of possibilities… a new set of lies he would tell to her, to himself.<\/p>\n A new dream — but always the same, sad story arc.<\/p>\n He remembered a brief moment when he was about four or five, watching himself standing over a toilet and thinking, this can’t <\/span>be a TV show, ’cause no one ever goes to the bathroom on TV. But it sure does feel like one…<\/p>\n His bitter laugh echoed against the concrete walls of the warehouse when he thought, Man, I should just fire the writing staff…<\/span><\/p>\n OK…. enough of all that. Today’s version of this song is kind of fun, I think, a funky, glam-folk reading of what I’ve always thought of as kind of a sleeper.<\/p>\n\n