lining up the little ducksnbefore they start to scatter offnthat bulls eye on a trampolinenwhen jumping from the top storynwriting up the words to saynbefore they try to escapennmaking up the bednright before you just get back in itnhoping for a little restnwhile fighting off your sleeplessnessnhaunted by the ghost of younreminds you what you didn't donnoh no, don't let it get younnyou're coming outnyou've got the ticketnthis is the greatestnnlooking for a crystal ballnto tell you why your better offnit's creepy when you hear the thingsnthe things you say about yourselfnand what about everyone elsenmuch more to them than just one's healthnnhauling all the stuff you havenfrom one place to the other sidenhumming all the notes you heardnin no particular ordernyou can't remember anyonenand so it stops and you're undonennoh no, don't let it get younnyou're coming outnyou've got the ticketnthis is the greatest