Pouring rain can't wash away,
Staring at space, what a waste
I can barely visible through
I got no plans, make mistakes
more frequent than my moods
With better lights on, better times,
I'm sick of these arrangements,
they do more harm than good
I'm going down a wonderland trip
where I'd be a lot but for you
Broken dreams, missing friends
Still we wait, communicate
Nothing's open to engage,
Come to life, come to anyone
When battle lines, or better times,
I'm sick of these arrangements,
you do more harm than good
I'll go down a wrong direction
where I've been off my floor
I grew it soft, the meanest type,
more frequent than my moves
When battle lies, so many times,
I'm of these arrangements,
they do more harm than good
I go down among the wretched
when I feel I'm but for you
Go down among the wretched
when I feel I'm but for you
Go down among the wretched
when I feel I'm but for you