Birthday

You're up till' 4AM again
You're waking up at 2PM
I think there's something weird about you
The voices in the dark surround you,
Hospitals, in hospitals
Your lights are humming dim and dull
A working life has no appeal
You're drunk behind that steering wheel
You drive to San Francisco
On the morning of your birthday
And things are getting better in the
Worst of ways
The bug inside your ear is just a
Swollen reminder that your
Broken little Volvo has a broken little driver
The journals that you throw away tell funny little stories
In ugly black pen drawings of distorted lover's bodies
And you will go back home
To find a town you don't remember
And you'll lie still for no one but for
Him you'd surrender



Credits
Writer(s): David Garcia, Terry Platt, Steven Swenson, Tommy Platt, Michael Swenson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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