in the evening, afternoonnfeel so tired 'cause there's nothing to donbut wish the fireflies would come home soonntook a walk up into the hillsnbrought a book and a bottle of pillsnwaded through the grass beneath the treesnndon't ask me nowntake your time, we'll arrive somehownyou have the look of flowers that are looked atnnsang you and myself to sleepnevery night feels like a weekndon't know if i sould run, or should i staynlaid and listened to the traffic diensad voices trying to tell me liesndon't pay them any mindnthey'll disappoint younndon't ask me nowntake your time, we'll arrive shoehownyou have the look of flowers that are looked atnnlove comes and it fades awaynlike the sun moving through the daynthat's why i'll always love younin the morning