Courtesy Of Songtext
von Running Touch

I think I′m tired of hearing don't
With ticket stubs in front of me
Paint my house all shades of gold
That way I can′t see
That he's not real

I'm not even friends with ones I know
Courtesy of Curtis, I′m on my own


Quarter your visit and then some
As every breath it stirs me
And I would have no one know
Of all these years waiting
Days sped, winding and wailing In an anvil of sheets
Your nose upon mine, as I would go
But who would you have if I were to leave
But he′s not real

I'm not even friends with ones I know
Courtesy of Curtis, I′m on my own