It's well past midnight In a room full of pink Lustful stares Meet my satire brink I can’t have A wandering eye; It’s you that I miss So I’ll go home and cry I'm thinking of numbers And the time in my head How long it’ll be Until you’re back in my bed You said from the start “You can do better”, Then why do my eyes Get wetter and wetter? My chest isn't tight From the nitrates and oxides I don’t have time For bleach blonde peroxides