In the front seat on a dead street Where lonely people go to meet And when i'm done and i come home Are you still waiting by the phone? I know you don't know But for how long can this go on? Got no one left to talk to It all slips through I win and i got sick too soon What day hides and stresses by Bubbles up at night time Get off the phone let yourself go Don't waste no time on me If i can use my feet again I swear i'll go away Got no one left to talk to It all slips through I win and i got sick too soon In the front seat on a slow street In the back row of a late show Concentrated darkness Dissolves the only part i did enjoy I open up my mouth I spit it out!