In the front seat on a dead street 
Where lonely people go to meet 
And when I'm done and I come home 
Are you still waiting by the phone? 

I know you don't know 
But for how long can this go on? 
Got no one left to talk to 
It all slips through 
I win and I got sick too soon 

What day hides and stresses by 
Bubbles up at night time 
Get off the phone let yourself go 
Don't waste no time on me 

If I can use my feet again 
I swear I'll go away 
Got no one left to talk to 
It all slips through 
I win and I got sick too soon 

In the front seat on a slow street 
In the back row of a late show 

Concentrated darkness 
Dissolves the only part I did enjoy 
I open up my mouth 
I spit it out!