lately i haven’t been sleeping all that wellntry as i mightnthinking of all the thoughts that never willn(c’mon michele fight the good fight)nyou treat me like an angel, buried in the snownit will melt eventually, it’s just ice as you may or may not knownnplastic bags all fly then lie themselves in the streetnas i drivena fog gripped over all the grass and fell asleepnthat’s how i know it’s nightna helicopter’s overhead and you’ve been drinking againni was so angry you had figured me outnbut don’t you worry, i’ll get over itnnyour dark hair seperates into ten silly linesnone’s for menand when we say hello or prolong goodbyenyou treat me like a person that i know i’m notnyou can say what you will about me nownbut someday you’ll say, she’s not what i thought.n