| In case you haven’t noticed
|
| I am wearing black again
|
| Though it may not be my color
|
| I just couldn’t think to change
|
| I’ve been caught up with a flashlight
|
| To keep the darkness away
|
| There’s something in my room
|
| I’d hoped with all the practice
|
| I could do it in my sleep
|
| What happens when you can’t
|
| You can’t get the rest you need
|
| Cliches in the closet oh, and bombs under the bed
|
| It can’t be in my head
|
| No it cannot be in my head
|
| I’m losing it
|
| And on this verse I’m tired of playing
|
| Tired of playing the same chords I’ve played before
|
| All the while sitting on my hands, waiting for
|
| Waiting for the song to find it’s way
|
| My last thread of brilliance
|
| That’s flickering, and dim
|
| I ready myself the worst to begin
|
| And the ghosts of doubt surround me
|
| And I feel them closing in
|
| Tore off my sweaty sheets
|
| And hold up my ballpoint pen
|
| I’m losing it
|
| On this verse I’m tired of playing
|
| Tired of playing the same chords I’ve played before
|
| All the while sitting on my hands, waiting for
|
| Waiting for the song to find it’s way |