It's one a.m. you haven't called
it must be four wherever you are
And the photo booth strip, and the letter you wrote
they feel like nothing I could hold
Nothing bad, nothing free
there's nothing left
for me to feel
It's like going' to bed at a quarter to three
Finally tired, finally empty
Should I be up to play the game
back and forth get back at me
And my confidence fell and I feel so mad
tell me whose side are you on?
It's like going' to pieces could fix everything
|
Switch to English 
