tobias sleeps on a floor he made
|
from stealing in and out of others peoples names
|
he never read all the formula
|
and the feeling alone could never be enough
|
he couldn't even begin to impress himself
|
enough to slow down and see a mattress
|
still would've been a better deal
|
|
it could've been a mistaken case
|
he couldn't lie through another face
|
he wouldn't try to have been replaced it seems
|
unmoving cold he'll attempt to go
|
he never had something that could grow
|
he feels his best with his bruises left unseen
|
|
and in the end he won't open up
|
we'll never know if he tried enough
|
he said he'd stay for another day or two
|
despite his place he can't ask for more
|
he can't recall what he had before
|
when all the while he can fake a smile on cue
|
|
would you be my (be my) only address
|
i can only offer a walletsworth
|
|
-----------------
|
Walletworth
|
Umphrey's McGee |