tried to sing but I can’t anymore
had a dream about the little house on Fir St
woke up with a lump in my throat
woke up and that’s all she wrote

I’m fairly sure I’m not meant to be happy
I’m fairly sure I’m meant to be blue

and in my dream they were all just waiting
they wanted me back so it must not be true

my tongue turns to paper, I’m catching on fire
and forging an aegis for you.

who puts the lining into the cloud