Thoughts that go like bullets through you
The time you told me that you wished you were dead
What's a broken arm when you can't stop choosing
To sleep through your alarms
Man, you're losing your head
The thoughts that go like bullets through you
The time you told me that you wished you were dead
(But I guess I'll go home)
What's a broken arm when you can't stop choosing
To sleep through your alarms
Man, you're losing your head
