She falls fast asleep, in her Glassboro apartment, dreaming of what she wants to
be. So she just organizes photographs she's taken in this year that's past,
loves nothing more, adores her memories. Does she miss any kiss, that I placed

upon her lips. Does she have a photograph of me at all? That day she walked
away. I turned my head and didn't pay attention, said California is my final
fall. Last time I saw her was the first time that I saw her cry. She had a

boyfriend and a tattoo of a butterfly. Biology, photography ambition, was enough
for her to leave me. I swore I'd find on the other side. Bloomfield Ave. I'm
sick of pickin' through the dumpster. A meal. I hold a gun but I can't feel it

to my head, hum a song, say goodnight, it's all wrong. It's alright. I close my
eyes and take a bite, bite, bite. Close my eyes and take a bite, bite, bite.
Close my eyes and take a bit. (CHORUS)Another thing I should've said, light

another cigarette, another thing I left behind ashes to ashes we all fall down.
I'm homeless on the west, she's on the east. I only wish that I could see her
one more time. To remind her that I love her and I shot him down. Now she's in

that crazy town again. Hitchhike my way across the states. I'm banging on the
door. She's passed out on the floor. Sawed off shotgun by her side, no one heard
her cry. My tears roll down the wood of our old neighborhood. I saw her through

the window but I didn't have the strength to knock it down. Down. Down. Didn't
have the strength to knock it down. Down. Down. Didn't have the strength to
knock it down