I’m addicted to a certain kind of misery how the streets lay down deserted like tangled string and I am lost as I am walking home I’m always lost in places I don’t know So I don’t think that you’re the one who’s gonna get me out We take back things from all the places we go the mugs we stole from diners when we were on the road the prizes we won from quarter machines I will keep you with them if you stay here with me But I don’t think that you’re the one who’s gonna get me out We can listen to records in your room cause I feel better when I’m just talking to you But I don’t think that you’re the one who’s gonna get me out