| It’s one a. |
| m, you haven’t called
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| It must be four wherever you are
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| And the photo booth strip, and the letter you wrote
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| They feel like nothing I could hold
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| Nothing bad, nothing free
|
| There’s nothing left for me to feel
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| It’s like goin' to bed at a quarter to three
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| Finally tired, finally empty
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| Should I be up to play the game
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| Back and forth, get back at me And my confidence fell and I feel so mad
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| Tell me whose side are you on?
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| Nothing bad, nothing free
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| There’s nothing left for me to feel
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| It’s like goin' to pieces could fix everything
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| At this point I’m really me Nothing bad, nothing free
|
| There’s nothing left for me to feel
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| It’s like goin' to bed at a quarter to three
|
| Finally tired, finally empty
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| Finally tired, finally empty |