It's a work week filled with regret
There are clouds surrounding my head
And all the stupid conversations
Made with the people that I'm hating
Make me feel so unrelatable, dead
It's a nail placed under my bed
It keeps me up to the ceiling and back
And I can't help but think of babies
A house, and a vacation
And all the things I never said
I'm not up to the feeling again
It's a wretched sense of loneliness
And I get sick to my stomach
Watching TV with the cousins
That I never ever really had
I'm burning red and I can't breathe
There's no air left inside my lungs
I'd like to take you to the atmosphere
So that I'm not the only one
It's sad to watch you through
The looking glass of an aching heart