There's plenty of space to hang my stuff   But there's no where to hang myself in this room   Windows aren't high enough to jump out of   I don't think it's me only; we're all so lonely      The people I love the most are the one's that I pass quick   I can make them up, they're anything I pick   I fall in love 'few times a month    With the most interesting girls in the world, in the world   And I don't think it's me only; we're all so lonely      The subtleties in their walk tell me all about themselves   I remember everyone, my head's got big old bookshelves   I want them to make me up, too   And though none of it'd be true, it'd be special to her and me:    A great romance in complete privacy   And I don't think it's me only; we're all so lonely      We crested the hill and saw nothing   "Might as well roll down," I said, "we'll be dead in four years anyways."   Our sortie down the grass answered not a thing as we reached the base   Only to find another, yet, larger hill   "Should we climb it?" she said. "I don't know," I said.   "Should we climb it?" she said. "I don't know," I said.