the morning sun's about to break,

i'm looking in as you create someone,

you lift your head and [bad word] your teeth,

and make your bed as if you won't sleep again,

you fix your hair and tie your shoes,

and tuck your shirt and now you feel new.

the glass is full, the glass is broke,

and every day dissolves and there's no hope

of ever leaving this temporary life.

of ever leaving this temporary life.

you may ask yourself "is there anyone so alone?"

but there's no beep before the dial-tone

when you pick it up to see who called

if there is it's probably your mom

but, oh, the rising sun brings little cheer

to this city with the stolen name

and you're wondering whose bright idea

it was to pack your things and leave your friends

and move down here.