Out Of Touch

Lucinda Williams · Car Wheels On A Gravel Road [2006]

Once in a while we might pass on the street



We nod and we smile and we shuffle our feet



Making small talk, standing face to face



Hands in our pockets 'cause we feel so out of place



Other paths may cross again in some crowded bar



We feel a little lost 'cause we've drifted away so far



Hoping to find the right words to say



We joke a little and then go on our way



We are so out of touch, yeah



We are so out of touch, yeah



La la la



We speak in the past tense and talk about the weather



Half broken sentences we try to piece together



I ask about an old friend that we both used to know



You said, "You heard he took his life about five years ago"



We may pass each other on the interstate



We honk and cross over to the other lane



Everybody's going somewhere, everybody's inside



Hundreds of cars, hundreds of private lives



We are so out of touch, yeah



We are so out of touch, yeah



La la la