you're always sitting out
in the street of lonely
everyone wonders why
remember when I was you
lying at the bottom of the scale
waiting for a "pick-me-up

everyday I find myself wishing to miss a beat
and nothing of importance helps my thoughts
helps my thoughts


(chorus)
to move along
to any better muse
what am I to do
to live this life
with any purpose or dream
is intolerably
not enough, not enough for me

contacts were severed
in a time when I held
conversations with the best
now I stare into my box
afraid to tear my eyes away
from the output