Late at night all alone in the bathroom
You’re freaking
She's breaking up, she's falling down
She's holding her fists up
I'm sure you're in a lot of pain,
But it's
And I wonder how Franklin felt in '42
The war's
Maybe your view of quality is more than you can
Floating like driftwood
Enslaved by the sea
Resolutely refusing to
And though my sermon salts the air
My ears are soon
Nothing was wrong and the future looked better than it
Living a life, without any future
Just unending appetite, for
I guess there's only one place to go from here