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