I'm stuck in my apartment on Eleventh Street, I push the pen around. Something made me think of you, I jump into a cab going downtown. Do you know what
When I'm done with thinking, then I'm done with you. When I'm done with crying, then I'm done with you. When I feel so tired, then I'm done with you
I like things that are so good. you are so so good. I like you. but I am the underdog, I am the last in line. Don't be the enemy, don't stand in back
I told you I was sorry, I told you I was wrong, I said it was an accident and don't tell anyone. But you love to circle round and round, you're so
She wanted to be a cowboy, She was shootin' 'em down, She was tramping around. He walked in crooked with the clear blue eyes. "There's a nice pool
everybody go the party's over I want to be alone in my head in my bed tonight you never show you must really love her you think I don't know
I was quiet, and I was tired. and I wanted you to bring me up. I wanted you to make it stop, yeah I wanted you to bring me up. You were wrong, and
This isn't what I like to call flattery, But I know that I believe that I've found what's true, That I've found what's you. Truthfully I I'm finding
I didn't come this far for you to make this hard for me. And now you want to ask me "how"? It's like - how does your heart beat, and why do you breathe
"It's not really poetry, but it's pretty," he said. As he raises his voice, she lowers her head. "It makes my heart heavy, you're lonely, I think.
No teacher to follow, no prophet to tell me how, But I know what I want, I know what I want now. Like water, it rushes, it's the last thing you see
I'd play all day if I could, but I haven't got all the time in the world. Your head hangs down, hangs down. Your face so long so long. Your weight carries
You say I only hear what I want to. You say I talk so all the time so. And I thought what I felt was simple, And I thought that I don't belong, And
Do you eat, sleep, do you breathe me anymore? Do you sleep, do you count sheep anymore? Do you sleep anymore? Do you take plight on my tongue like
My friend's got a bruise on his leg, A bruise on his leg Everytime you speak. My friend's got a bruise on his leg, where I press my knee Everytime
Waiting for Wednesday, my stomach doesn't hurt enough Pain always is the sign. Waiting for Wednesday, no proof of mine exists, So I don't have to
She can't tell me that all of the love songs have been written, 'Cause she's never been in love with you before. Your skin smells lovely like sandalwood
Waiting for the super buzz, the second dose, the inspiration, but something strange is going on. I'm in the middle of another stupid conversation.
