6 acessos
Don't stare at me now
It's worse than death to be looked at
I'm writing this out at home,
Where there is nothing but walls
Hey mom could you run down to the store?
Stock up on soy milk and I need a few good books
But nothing interesting, I'd like to feel dead for a week
And sleep like I'm already gone
Walk around the house,
Tearing all the mirrors down
While I'm at it, I'll smash the windows too
Then retreat to my room,
Throw my sheets around me
Blanket for the sky,
My, oh, my
What a mess am I