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