Sangtekst: Death Cab For Cutie. Transatlanticism. The New Year.

:
so this is the new year.
and I don't feel any different.
the clanking of crystal
explosions off in the distance (in the distance).

so this is the new year
and I have no resolutions
for self-assigned penance
for problems with easy solutions

so everybody put your best suit or dress on
let's make believe that we are wealthy for just this once
lighting firecrackers off on the front lawn
as thirty dialogues bleed into one

I wish the world was flat like the old days
then I could travel just by folding a map
no more airplanes, or speedtrains, or freeways
there'd be no distance that can hold us back.

there'd be no distance that could hold us back (x2)

so this is the new year (x4)