So I guess that it's just okay, it's all downhill from here. Like a wet bag of sand, all washed out. There's this clock and all I ever get to hear is tick-tock. And once you've got that laid down and figured out, it's plain to see it's just Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday over and over and over and over again. Bid me welcome to Grandville, it tends to be pretty dark around here. Still it might feel nice and cosy, but after all it's just ersatz for something I know I don't know at all. Running hardly feels like an option when not knowing where to run to, but I can't just hide in this ersatz living anymore.
Lyrics submitted by shepastaway