And it begins I toss and turn But things could be much worse Hurry up and wait This convoluted state, induced by you And the loaded things we say Whoaaa, whoaaaa, whoaaaaaaaaaaa (x2) You're gonna miss, gonna miss, gonna miss me someday (x2) The siren sings to pull you in As things are wearing thin The time it takes Before you break Let me introduce myself My name is fate Whoaaa, whoaaaawhoaaaaaaaaaaa (x2) You're gonna miss, gonna miss, gonna miss me someday (x2) You're gotta take your time with things like these All that you want is someone to ask for apologies For things that don't exist They just don't make sense So much pretense April 5th I arise with chapped lips And the babbling of nonsense over the TV's dull hiss The events of April 4th align just a little more than the infatuated roar of the kids across the street though they speak not to me they go deeper than my worry with a friend of a friend who at a bar last night told me that they loved me but it must've been the Bacardi that had her hanging off me, and saying things she'd do to me Why do these still haunt me?!?!