You stopped making sense
Every morning, you come back to life again
Applying bobby pins and a foolish grin
Alcohol brimming from the clothes you're in
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Its an effort to care, to open up to you
You're scattered across the course
You're resting on the torn roof
While two years before
I leaped and no one knew
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I'm calling from the phone, only for the last time
Words fail me all the time, still you go on the line
I'd rather you not worry or compare to my strife
So I'll call from the phone for the very last time
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