Often I am upset,
That I cannot fall in love,
But I guess,
This avoids the stress of falling out of it.
Are you tired of me, yet?
I'm a little sick right now,
But I swear,
When I'm ready I will fly us out of here.
I'll Cut my Hair.
To make you stare.
I'll hide my chest and I'll,
Figure out a way to get us out of here.
Turn off your porcelain face.
I can't really think right now in this place
There's too many colors,
Enough to drive all of us insane.
Are you dead?
Sometimes I think I'm dead.
'Cause I can feel,
Ghosts and ghouls wrapping my head.
But I don't want to fall asleep just yet.
My eyes went dark.
I don't know where.
My pupils are, but I'll,
Figure out a way to get us out of here.
Get a load of this monster!
He doesn't know how to communicate.
His mind is in a different place.
Will everybody please give him a little bit of space?
Get a load of this train wreck!
His hair's a mess and he,
Doesn't know who he is, yet.
But little do we know the stories welcome him with open arms.
Time is...
Slowly...
Tracing his face,
But strangely he feels at home in this place...
-This is Home by Cavetown
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