Текст: David Gray. Foundling. The Old Chair.

The old chair, the old chair
It gets that they don't want it anymore
The split seams and bad dreams
I'm fluttering like a dollar to the floor, oh
You get to wonder what you do it for, oh

And if you're not there to meet me
That shadow gonna greet me
Moment I go stepping through the door

My heart pounds, I hear sounds
Like laughter coming softly through the walls
The high times, turn sidelines
This game, it makes a fool out of us all, oh
You're off but you ain't hardly touched the ball, oh

And if you're not there to meet me
Only absence gonna greet me
The moment I go stepping through the door

If you're not there to meet me
Just who is gonna greet me
The moment I go stepping through the door