Hurried my way throughout the week
Watched each second slowly creep
Waited for the drive home to end
Magnetized by my comfortable bed
Lying there, I started to think
My fears and hopes began to sink
Within and out I felt the dread
As I clutched the pillow upon my bed
Am I in love with my sadness as The Pumpkins say?
The movement of my sheets, a roll in the hay?
I’m not really sure, but I know this much
Any love affair eventually rusts
Becomes bitter and cold with no more flame
And no more of my life to drain