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sat outside my front window
this story's going somewhere
"he's well hung" and i am hanging up
well theres a song on the radio that says
"let's get this party started, let's get this party started"
what you do on you own time's just fine
my imagination's much worse than i ever wanted to know
and what meant the world implodeded...
inflated then demoted all my oxygen to product gas
and suffocated my last chance you said between your smiles and regrets
"dont say it's over"
dead and gone calm before the storm
set it off, and the sun burnt out tonight
reception less than warm
set it off and the sun burnt out tonight
the next time the phone can wring my neck it gets no answer
and of the time that i've spent telling it my roots
i'm shaking in my boots
and still it looks at me like an old friend i've betrayed
the darkside of the doormat is the one your shoes have frayed
the sun burnt out tonight
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