Postal Address

I stay up late now, rise with the sun

Head in a vice and a phone in my arms

I was tryin' to call you

Say what you want

I was trying to call you

Sick to my stomach

I got your psychic postal address and

I sent a postcard straight to your head, I

Hope that you get it

I hope it makes sense, I

Thought of the ocean

Thought of your legs

I rest my head

You stumble in

I rest my head

You stumble in

Roof's getting damaged, hail's coming in a

Meteor shower, rattlin' tin, I'd

Say it is soothing, the world could be endin'

Least I imagine

Call me John Lennon

I cut a paycheck straight to my landlord

House that we wanted

We can't afford it

Beats where we last were

House made of cardboard

In the city

Busy and bored

I rest my head

You stumble in

I rest my head

You stumble in