Hey, still staring, little girl
Are you looking at or past me?
Worry, simple symptoms won't leave you
This underweight or red in the eyes
No more rules, the ones we make don't last the night
So pick up the pieces
Start again, start over Tuesday morning
Conscience clean
This card, postmarked December 23
The caption reads 'How does he do it?'
Ms., too bad, he treats me like I'm dead
Nothing works to make this easy
No more lies, the ones we live will work just fine
So pick up the pieces
Start again, start over Tuesday morning
Conscience clean, alone
I hope you figure out what it is you want
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