Good Things

Woke up this morning couldn't shake the feeling of a premonition Nocturnal oracles transmitting from their islands in the sun Glanced at the paper, threw it out, No need for other people's business I've got a feeling soon enough I'll have some problems of my own I don't know much about my future I don't know much about my past But I know this, and it makes me sick: Somehow the good things never last Can't shake this feeling that I've been here before I can't escape from underneath this deep dark melancholy blue I can't stop worrying, I can't stop wandering I can't stop questioning and I can't stop following I can't stop hollering, I can't stop bothering Can't help but wondering what's keeping me from wandering I don't know much about my future I don't know much about my past But I know this, and it makes me sick: Somehow the good things never last But I can't move on Somehow the good things never last Somehow the good things never last Somehow the good things never last Somehow the good things never last I'm wearing cotton in my ears cuz I refuse to face the music Just running 'round with the wrong crowd afraid of ever going home But even when I close my eyes in weaker moments of surrender I see a choir full of angels and they're Taunting me in song--and it sounds like this: I don't know much about my future I don't know much about my past But I know this, and it makes me sick: Somehow the good things never last I don't know much about my future I don't know much about my past But I know this, and it makes me sick: Somehow the good things never last But I can't move on Somehow the good things never last Somehow the good things never last Somehow the good things never last Somehow the good things never last