What's good is gone from everything. Like sunshine wrapped in cellophane, it just won't stick and I'm sick of it. I've been calling out your name for so long now. The seasons have all changed their clothes, but I'm still in the same suit and tie. Sitting on the piano in my parents living room, in an old picture frame.
I'm catching dreams in paper cups
And saving them for later days
When I can talk to you
And tell you that you were a dream come true
Brazen was my wounded heart before it tore the world apart. Now I love in color bars. I'm bleeding out at best, but I'm healing slow. Any chalk-white second chance is long gone by now. I've been empty cellophane for so long now.