Ezra Furman
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Point Me Toward the Real

Ezra Furman


In the front seat of your convertible car I'm awaiting your return
Watching sunshine flash and my cigarette ash til the corporate logo burns
You picked me up at the County Cook Psychiatry Institute
It's my first day free. I've got nowhere to be so I'm coming home with you
Just a quick stop off at the drugstore
I'm not ready, so I wait in the car for you

You asked me who I might like to see on my first night back outside
But my friends are few and my lover is through and my family's horrified
We ride along through the silent dusk while the moon gets drunk and high
It's a cold white stone up in heaven alone and I've seen its darker side
You ask again and the words come out
So easy, they bypass my conscious mind

Point me toward the real motherfuckers
Point me toward the real
I've been lied to and abused
Time to try to heal
Cut me loose, cut me loose
Let me get hurt, let me feel
Cut my bound hands free and
Point me toward the real

Now ever since I was a little child I have felt the same old fear
That I alone will freeze while the world proceeds, I'll be forever stuck right here
But I can't live the old way, that way nearly left me dead
I need someone new who can tell me the truth and I don't care who it is
I want the knife in deep, aw, and I want someone to give it a twist

We're coming into the city now and I've only said it once
It's a phrase so clean, I don't know what it means, but it's more than I've said in months
You never ask what I did that made the cops fin'lly pick me up
You wanna know where I'm trying to go, where I'll be, not where I was
I say it one more time, you nod and smile, and it's better than all the drugs

Point me toward the real motherfuckers
Point me toward the real
I've been lied to and abused
Time to try to heal
Cut me loose, cut me loose
See what freedom might reveal
Cut my bound hands free and
Point me toward the real

(Aah, aah
Aah, aah
Aah, aah
Aah, aah)

Compositor: Ezra Mordechai Furman (Ezra Furman)
ECAD: Obra #37782124

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