Returning home, she bid him, “Turn around;” The days-ago packed bag upon her arm. He raced a rally stage through drive-time town, An effervescent contrast to her calm.
Most people are so boring, don’t you think? So disappointing when they fall below, Which they always do. You meet some fellow, Find someone who gets you, someone in-sync
I’m sick and tired of feeling sick and tired Every morning I wake up exhausted My stagnant, racing brain is uninspired I self-med my way to early-nighthood