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 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