Thursdays are always grey here
And Im never prepared
Turn up looking useless
Wet clothes, wet bag, wet hair
The sun it always teases
Tries to make me feel
It doesn't fool me for a second
I know none of this is real

Im sick of the same faces
Im sick of the decay
Im sick of the same places
Im trapped in every day
My hands touching storm clouds
My toes dipped in puddles
My ears catching cruel sounds
My eyes seeking trouble

The grey its all consuming
By nature clouds surround
Take me beyond the moon and stars
Where theres no light or sound
I think I want to live there
No fear of having hope
The thing that so deceived me
Just me out there alone