Maybe, maybe you might be happier free and wild.
Maybe you might want to go before I leave you.
Because maybe you don't know me,
maybe I can't understand you.
Maybe this is all too tough and I'm better alone and mad.
Maybe I prefer having a phone that hardly vibrates...
Or maybe it's just me, not feeling secure at all,
or maybe it's just me, not being good enough for you.
My mind feels tired worrying and finding ways to seem good enough for you.
Or maybe I just can't.
Or maybe I'm just being a bitch about all this.
I burnt my hand, watched Homecoming, listening to old tunes,
dreamt of the old you, wished for a better life,
going to sleep for a new day.
I feel like a bird in a cage that I can't escape.
Haven't you ever wished that you could live in daytime Washington? I always have.
A nice house on the street with nice neighbours who bake cookies all day,
with kids that cycle on their tricycles down the pavements, with kids that wield their
coloured chalks drawing on the mundane cement walks.
But I'm stuck here, to be miserable for the rest of my youth.
Oh the grizzly mood.