Blue yster Cult — Pocket

[Verse 1: Donald Roeser] The blossoms are falling Making a white path Across the grass Thunderheads are building, your skin tightens And you wait for the flash Across the street, the boys are laughing As they wash each other's cars They turn up the hip-hop White boys Rapping with the black stars [Chorus: Donald Roeser] Are you in the pocket of the moment (in this particular second) Screwed into the socket of the moment (in this particular second) Where time cannot be reckoned Are you in the pocket of the moment [Verse 2: Donald Roeser] Overhead a rumble, it's not thunder It's a 747 The postman grumbles, it's past eleven The street is sixth, it should be seventh You hear the chiming of the ice cream truck Rambling like in a dream I hear your footsteps behind me The sweetest eddy in the stream [Chorus: Donald Roeser] Are you in the pocket of the moment (in this particular second) Screwed into the socket of the moment (in this particular second) Where time cannot be reckoned Are you in the pocket of the moment Are you in the pocket of the moment (in this particular second) Screwed into the socket of the moment (in this particular second) Where time cannot be reckoned Are you in the pocket of the moment [Outro: Donald Roeser] Are you in the pocket of the moment (in this particular second) Screwed into the socket of the moment (in this particular second) Where time cannot be reckoned Are you in the pocket of the moment