We never think we’re bad
We never think it’s us
Just maybe a little mad…


…but we don’t like to discuss, it
doesn’t matter that we’re haunted
by the stupid things we’ve done
that we still live in the shadows cast
by wounded friends and lovers
and cower, cold, and shunned by others


It’s over… and over again
It’s the stare of former friends
at wits’ end,
at the wit’s end.