I think too much. On things I want too much. It makes me hateful. And I say stupid things. Only you can fill my blank heart. And I'm resigned to that.
When all the nights are dream. And not really what they seem. I'd cut my hair in spite. And set my hands on fire. Are you lonely?. Are you lonely?. Are you lonely?.
In an old house in an old street. You found me and a tv. There was no bed, there were no chairs. There was no roof, there were no stairs. Ribbons and leaves and time in a tin.