Fogged Glass Patterns

[Intro]\n\n[Verse]\nBlue velvet seat smells like rain\nFinger painting on the pane\nThe city lights are blurry dots\nConnecting all my lonely thoughts\nThe bus is leaning to the left\nOf every certain word bereft\n\n[Chorus]\nIt is a D-flat kind of night\nUnderneath the yellow light\nEverything is feeling right\nHolding on to something slight\nJust a whisper in the air\nTracing patterns everywhere\nYeah, I am almost there\n\n[Verse]\nI saw the tabby by your door\nSleeping on the hardwood floor\nI whispered things I never say\nAbout the clouds and shades of gray\nHe blinked his eyes and let a purr\nI felt the static in his fur\n\n[Pre-Chorus]\nThe Wurlitzer is playing slow\nWhere the cassette tape used to go\nSpinning round a wobbly wheel\nThat is exactly how I feel\n\n[Chorus]\nIt is a D-flat kind of night\nUnderneath the yellow light\nEverything is feeling right\nHolding on to something slight\nJust a whisper in the air\nTracing patterns everywhere\nYeah, I am almost there\n\n[Bridge]\nTinkle of a music box\nHidden keys and rusty locks\nRain is tapping on the roof\nSearching for a tiny proof\nThat the world is soft and kind\nIn the corners of my mind\n\n[Post-Chorus]\nJust a little bit (bit)\nHigh above the grit (grit)\nTracing shapes on glass\nWatching seasons pass\n\n[Verse]\nThe driver nods a quiet hello\nThe brakes are squeaking down below\nI am stepping off at 2nd Street\nWith wet concrete beneath my feet\nThe cat is waiting by the gate\nI am home, but maybe late\nThe baritone guitar is humming low\nWith nowhere left for me to go\n\n[Chorus]\nIt is a D-flat kind of night\nUnderneath the yellow light\nEverything is feeling right\nHolding on to something slight\nJust a whisper in the air\nTracing patterns everywhere\nYeah, I am almost there\n\n[Outro]