I left my shirt back in my room And I spread myself in dying bloom 'Til the sun came up and dried my out And I held my tongue and quiet down For a moment For a moment Awake inside, these ceiling lights Move dust around on phantom lines And I'm comatose, still reaching out And that plastic taste hangs in my mouth Losing focus Losing focus Is it so discouraging If I don't feel anything? I left my shirt back in my room
