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you swallowed your pride, |
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moved back to the town you knew - |
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the place where you'd hide, |
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when it all seemed too much for you. |
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when you're up, |
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you long to see real faces. (counting) |
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when you're down, |
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you wish the world would run aground. (counting) |
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closing the door, |
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you pull down the dusty blinds. |
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rubbing your eyes, |
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you find ways to kill the time. |
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it's seven-o-clock, then it's quarter to eight, |
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you'd get out of the house, |
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but you've left it too late again. |
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when you're up, |
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you want to hear real voices. (counting) |
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when you're down, |
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you wish the world would make no sound. (counting) |
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when you're up, |
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you try to find real love again. (counting) |
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when you're down, |
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you wish the world could not be found. (counting) |
