You were calling early on a Sunday morning, hoping I would wake up, but I was up before your window let out the sun through the gap in your blinds.
Last week I was pacing in the bedroom, panicked, wishing I could call you, but know it's just another side effect of loneliness in a life. And I know I couldn't keep up, but how could you be fine when I was never up, and you're always raring to go?
I can't call you this late at night anymore, it's not normal. But I wish it was 'cause it feels so normal to me. And I wish I was ecstatic for options, but options never seem to be coming to me.
Lucid dreaming in the morning, oh how I wish I could stay there. Not another detrimental thought or care in the world. And I wish I could be silent and content without this everlasting overwhelming need to be heard.
I can't call you this late at night anymore it's not normal. No it's not normal to be so attached to you. Lucid dreaming in the morning oh how I wish I could stay there. Not another detrimental thought or care in the world. And I'd take the offer again, but I'd hate to witness another end.
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