Hey cheekbones and eyes,
I've been gone three weeks
now I'm a mess
my stomach's on strike
and it's been three weeks
since my last breath
well I don't know why I'm here
cause I'm not in need of attention
and I'm not seventeen
and I don't believe
in that which I can't see
well I swear
if I make it home with my mind and some skin on my bones
I'll be the first one to throw up
these car keys and this cell phone
so I can't leave or talk to anyone
and this stupid wristwatch
so I'm unaware of the time that I've lost
I'm trying to be that which I'm not
