He smells like spaghetti sauce and an old man's cologne.
Never stops to check in the mirror;
your face is always stuck SO...
Day dreams in one eye.
I can't help the way my feet hurt,
and the way the noise blends into the music,
such a Dull Life.... Yeah, Yeah, Yeah.
Here it goes again,
I'm cutting, cutting, cutting,
all the patches from my clothes...
until nothing's holding the shreds together.
In the evening cold,
forgetting about me
and all the things I used to be.
I just wanted a friend.
But I can't help it,
I just do this...
How many times a day do I float away into not much at all?
How many hours spent glazing eyes over at cracks in the ceiling?
How many minutes are lost in misdirection or lack of direction entirely?
Every day is exactly the same.
How many times do I forget...?
How many hours are...