 You wake up some days and your head hurts,
like none of the lights in your house work.
You've been up all night, spending other people's money,
it's time to slow down from the speed that you're running.
It's hard sometimes being yourself,
like discarded rags on your top shelf.
You put on the clothes you know fit you once,
but you're out of fashion and she's out of class.
Everyone's always asking when we're going away,
no one's ever saying, "when are we here to stay?"
There's a hole in my pocket and a pressure in my head,
who are all these people getting me out of bed?
You wake up some days and your head hurts,
like none of the lights in your house work.
You've been up all night, spending other people's money,
it's time to slow down from the speed that you're running.
Everyone's always asking when we're going away,
no one's ever saying, "when are we here to stay?"
There's a hole in my pocket and a pressure in my head,
who are all these people waking up the dead?
You wake up some days and your head hurts,
like none of the lights in your house work.
You've been up all night, spending other people's money,
it's time to slow down from the speed that you're running.
You put on the clothes you know fit you once,
but you're out of fashion and she's out of class.
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