I tell them every dream I've ever had
I tell them every place I have ever gone
And if there is a fear of empty space
I need to be surrounded by someone
Waiting for a chance that things could change
Or spend another night among the dead
Searching for a calming presence
I'm so excitable- nothing happens, I just can't go on
Tell me why we have to live like this
Waiting for a certain but distant fall
Comfort is as unlikely as escape and love is always so conditional
I'm tired of tense and frightened looks
Staring out these tired, anxious eyes
Looking for constant approval
I'm so desirable- nothing matters, I have to move on
I have to move on
I guess it is pretty self-destructive to rain on what you create
What if I said it was more productive, would you make a fool out of me?
'Cause I'd make a fool out of you, with your cool guitars and rock-star eyes
Emotional on cue, or is it hypocrites, like us,
That fear what truth can do?
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