Pillowtalk,
Breakfast special coffee teeth.
You're so pretty and I'm drinking orange juice.
I'm just me, and maybe if I bought you
a box of cracker jacks or some sour patch kids
the timing would be right.
There would be no more alarm clocks,
waking me up to my own life,
full of roads I travel alone.
Singing along to the stereo,
looking at the clouds.
It gets dark and it gets tough.
I see myself in the mirror,
there are no more songs to sing along to.
There is a bed,
there is my life,
difficult to stomach,
the only chance I've got.
