Boundless boredom surrounds me here at home,
and so I set out
through a sleeping town that's all mine to roam.  
From scarred lungs I shout:
Come out! Come Out, if you've got the bottle.
But in silence I doubt,
if there's reason to my little waddle.

Then the sky gobbles and swallows us up whole.
A whole town dead, because of my little stroll.
Enveloped in her canvas, the night soothes
as it ***** us deeper, darker inside.
Ecstasy and fright haunt us as we loose
ourselves wandering witless for a place to hide.  
And ecstasy and fright make us oh so quick to confide.

I'm lost! I'm Lost! and I'm looking for myself.
The weeks have stopped working,
                                 and it's hurting my health.
I'm lost! I'm Lost! and I'm looking for myself.
The weeks have stopped working,  
                                 and
                                        we've got nothing else.