Two A.M. Lovesick

I walk like a burned out porn star With aching feet for a car My buddy had a baby with a girl named Star Makes me appreciate how the little things are But crossing a road isn't easily told To a young, has-been centerfold Labeled a winner's episode Yeah, I'm really clean if you know what I mean Except for this reoccurring dream Of losing total feeling While the windmill's squealing The windmill's squealing I paint to kill the dead saints I paint to make it clear My colors run in blue and gray But they give hope to someone dear Yeah, yeah, yeah, 2 AM lovesick With a walking pneumonia drum-kick And this candle doesn't have a wick But I'm really not that scared No, I'm not that scared I walk like a burned out porn star With aching feet for a car My buddy had a baby with a girl named Star Makes me appreciate how the little things are