These hammers and stringsnBeen following me aroundnFrom a box-filled garagenTo the dark punk rock clubsnOf one thousand American townsnnAnd my friend calls me upnShe says, How have you been?nI say, Dear I've been wellnYeah the money's come innBut I miss you like hellnI still hear you in this old pianonnShe says, Andy, I knownThat we don't talk as muchnBut I still hear your ghostnIn these old punk rock clubsnCome on, write me a songnGive me something to trustnJust promise you won't let it benJust the keys that you touchnnGive me something to believe innA breath from the breathingnSo write it downnI don't think that I'll close my eyesn'Cause lately I'm not dreamingnSo what's the point in sleeping?nIt's just that at night,nI've got nowhere to hidenSo I write you a lullabynnThese hammers and stringsnBeen following me aroundnBehind passenger vansnThrough the snow, dirt, and sandsnOf one thousand American townsnnAnd my friend calls me upnWith her heart heavy stillnShe says, Andy, the doctorsnPrescribed me the pills.nBut I know I'm not crazynI just lost my will.nSo why am I, why am InTaking them still?nnI need something to believe innA breath from the breathingnSo write it down,nI don't think that I'll close my eyesn'Cause lately I'm not dreamingnSo what's the point in sleeping?nIt's just that at night I've got nowhere to hidennTo the sleepless, this is my reply:nI will write you a lullaby