When you were locked up in your room alone 
neglecting even just to touch the phone, 
salty tears rolling down your cheeks 
like they had done any times before, 
did you fear that every time you speak 
would be the very final word that creeps 
between your teeth and off your tongue before 
you collapse from a broken heart? 

I've gone half crazy worried about you, about you... 
My left eye's gone lazy worried about you, 

Every morning you were petrified 
that nobody could ever pacify 
the sinking feeling that you had deep down 
that kept your heart on hold? 
My shoulder was an easy place to hide, 
but I didn't mind because I could pass the time counting the thousand little lies you kept 
inside of your broken heart. 

I've gone half crazy worried about you, about you... 
My left eye's gone lazy worried about you, about you... 

Every word you say is self-directed 
and I think that that is tragic. 
And every time you open up you mouth to speak 
it's self referenced, and that's tragic. 
You don't have to see the world to know it's [bad word]  
you don't have to see the world to know that it keeps turning. 

I've gone half crazy worried about you, about you... 
My left eye's gone lazy worried about you, about you...