day turns to night,

an oh-so endless darkness -

a girl with her head stuffed into a pillow,

hiding from the truth.

the tears drip and don't dry

(drip and don't dry)

because she can't, can't, can't, can't

CAN'T go on.

forty-five minutes down the road,

he should be the one crying.

such misery for all around them

because of one overdramatic day.

they weep and they rail

and they fight and they fuck

and the rest of us?

we sit back, and simply wonder:

when will this passion play of idiots end?