Thinking of paris

I'm stranded in my room
I don't have much to do
I don't have much more to give
I don't have the will to live
I don't know why I feel this way
I don't feel this pain every day
I don't even like my hair
I don't know why I even care

I wipe the dust back off my books
I step back and I take a look
I don't even like my face
I know it is a big disgrace

People talking on the news
There is not much good news

And I'm bored as hell
I think I hear those bells
It's from the microwave
And my tv dinners getting warm
And I think I should wait a while before

Will I ever find myself
I don't know
But I hope so



Credits
Writer(s): Timothy Wall
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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