running touch - courtesy of lyrics
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i think i’m tired of hearing don’t
with ticket stubs in front of me
paint my house all shades of gold
that way i can’t see
that he’s not real
i’m not even friends with ones i know
courtesy of curtis, i’m on my own
quarter your visit and then some
as every breath it stirs me
and i would have no one know
of all these years waiting
days sped, winding and wailing in an anvil of sheets
your nose upon mine, as i would go
but who would you have if i were to leave
but he’s not real
i’m not even friends with ones i know
courtesy of curtis, i’m on my own
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