I sit in my room, write my songs, and watch it all slip away.
I don’t get out much anymore; I can’t seem to find my place.
There is a girl who gives me all her love, but I don’t feel it… and once she knows she’s deprived and moves on with her life, I’ll know she meant it.
I am looking for something that cannot be found.
It’s lost within my head and buried beneath the sound.
Every song I write brings me closer the truth; I never will return what was lost in my youth.
Love is lost and found, although it never stays around. Would you still choose to stay knowing that I was only good for you yesterday?
All of my shame won’t erase what you must think of me. I know I’m a catch twenty-two; I’ve made you hate yourself for loving me the way you do.
You were my only friend in isolation… when I’d done a little more than contemplation.
These songs would only exist in the head of a dead man if not for you.
Where’s the dividing line that keeps me from my heart?
I want to feel the sun without getting burned.