Ron Wilson, Bus Driver!

Catch me posted up inside your head The one place I never thought that I would dwell again A firm belief in the fine print Pygmy words have never been so eloquent A contract for abandonment is what I offer Idle hands, an overworked tongue A masterpiece in the same league as my failures My hopes and dreams My knuckles stained the same shade as the stars "I'll makeshift something better" is sky-high... Cloud 9 to compare "Quiet down now," you said Besides the distance in both miles and our hearts "Call it quits," I begged you from day two If sleep is for the weak, then call my state of mind a Sunday Consequence is not a term I've come to I said it again and again in my head But the replay value depreciated on a scale Consisting of graves and storm clouds Besides the distance in both miles and our hearts "Call it quits," I begged you from day two If sleep is for the weak, then call my state of mind a Sunday Consequence is not a term I've come to I don't know how to say this nicely So I won't try Besides the distance in both miles and our hearts (Seven letters you will never hear) "Call it quits," I begged you from day two If sleep is for the weak, then call my state of mind a Sunday Consequence is not a term I've come to Is not a term I've come to Is not a term