I panic a little bit about the future a lot
And I know you see me tapping my fingers and thinking too much
And right around the time that my shoelaces will come untied
I've got my ripped plans and my steady hands are shaking at my sides
You've got your own plan; it's a clean slate
I come to realize I am void
Yes, I am too caught up anyway with being paranoid
About tomorrow, yes, anyway but what is a tomorrow?
So when I leave you in your ozone
I am plenty plenty lonely enough to be alone
I am plenty plenty lonely enough to be my own thing
But when I do wander, I do wander searching for you