| Oh the weeds of my head, I’m combing them down
|
| The shiny brown shoes, arriving again, I guess, arriving again, I guess
|
| And she’s a regular broad alone in her room
|
| You’re right, I’m there too, arriving again, I guess, arriving again, I guess
|
| Oh
|
| It’s easy to see why you know where I am
|
| I run on my tiptoes to find you again, and I will, and I will
|
| The scratch on my back means you know where I am
|
| I run on my tiptoes to find you again, and I will, and I will
|
| Oh
|
| Well nothing is easy. |
| Don’t you know nothing’s not the easy way out?
|
| Well nothing is easy. |
| Don’t you know nothing’s not the easy way out?
|
| Well nothing is easy. |
| Don’t you know nothing’s not the easy way out?
|
| Oh me in my bed and you in the ground. |
| You’re lying there still, arriving again,
|
| I guess, arriving again, I guess
|
| It’s easy to see why you know where I am
|
| I run on my tiptoes to find you again, and I will, and I will
|
| Yeah. |
| Yeah |