Something With Numbers

Twelve days of straight out thinking, Twelve days of straight out hell. Looking out my window at the

Traffic lights and traffic signs Hurt my eyes, the stereo's down I jerk a tear out of my face Eyes

Dig the ditch Dig the ditch of destiny With the spade, with the spade of apathy Your digging boots will stay

I blame myself for being boring, did i say, did I say what i want? Well here's my chance to tell you

I am floatin' on the reason why we get up everyday Is it just so I can torture myself? Could I be

Money doesn't matter when she's sleeping like a log the only thing that matters is herself Then

Come on This armchair is old and lonely Reminds me of my boring self It feels like I'm the

Believe me when I say He wept upon you, before he had told you That he had been lying all along You

Renaming the word love Because I've had enough You're falling out of touch You've

Here I am again for another reason Just another man just another reject Been plotting plans been paper

I'm fine but half the time I'm sick I'm alive but deadly sick of it I'd stay and dream all day

Why do I keep living the life of a zombie, No brains no thoughts nothing just a body, And no one believes me

Softly and slowly gently in vain The window is open its pouring rain Thunder and lightning a heated night

If I was falling through the air in a coffin filled with rocks You would be the last thing on my mind

Young boy on the computer Young girl in her punk rock shoes Old man not a believer But what the hell is