You showed up with a split lip dripping down your dress.
I don't know where I am but as I awoke I felt like
I slept on a bed of broken glass and rusted nails
I think I'll go home.
If I knew where home was from here
I think I'd pack my bags and go there.
Watching all their tiny black beady eyes fix to mine
And I don't know why.
Rest your head; get yourself collected
Get yourself collected will you please?
Stop to think about it
Take a breath and use your words to describe it.
I think I might have taken a ride up the wrong road,
Dizzy I don't see a single house I know
Except for yours
With the second floor lights on
I don't feel rested.
I wont feel rested at all,
As long as I'm outside of your window throwing stones.
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