Ran away because I needed air
Now I'm choking on borrowed time
Our bed was made of grenades, so you slept on the couch
I've got the itch, but I can't leave the house
I'm afraid that I may have lost my charm
Now I'm wasting under a big sky
I'll be gone before you could ever say goodbye
Wasting under a big sky
The ground is cold, soul is moldy, no surprise
Oh yea
Broken homes aren't conducive to recovery
Here I rust
Manic sobriety is my cross to bear
Look in my eyes as you fill my ditch
Grant your least favorite junkie his last wish
Now I'm wasting under a big sky
I'll be gone before you could ever say goodbye
Wasting under a big sky
The ground is cold, soul is moldy, no surprise
Oh yea
