we're having a week off, we're having a rest
listen to the way we cough it's for the best
the party's over, it's been a long, long night
when we get sober you'll see i'm right
now we can get on with our lives
step to the beat and get back in line
dont need to travel dont need to fly
like you said 2 more chances to die
I'll write a good song just give me more time
it's easy hating yourself its hard making it rhyme
gonna to sit on top of a hill for a day
play guitar, folk my troubles away
I'm going to kill the idiot in me
chase the bastard down, demand that he leaves
all you nice breathing people alone
I just want to wake up or sleep and go home
I'm scared of the time I sweat at the phone
the Fleetwood Mac polyphonic softens the blow
at times like these i know that i am
the happiest person the luckiest man
but since the day I wrote this song
I'll just pick up my feet and drag wearily on
I'm going to stop soon coz I'm tired, tired and full, full of sorrow,
Tired at the thought that if I sleep
It only brings a new tomorrow