She falls fast asleep,
in her Glassboro apartment,
dreaming of what she wants to be.
So she just organizes photographs
she`s taken in this year that`s past,
loves nothing more, adores her memories.
Does she miss any kiss, that I placed upon her lips.
Does she have a photograph of me at all?
That day she walked away. I turned my head and didn`t pay attention
`she` said California is my final fall.
Last time I saw her was the first time that I saw her cry.
She had a boyfriend and a tattoo of a butterfly.
Biology, photography ambition, was enough for her to leave me.
I swore I`d find on the other side. Bloomfield Ave.
I`m sick of pickin` through the dumpster. A meal.
I hold a gun but I can`t feel it to my head,
hum a song, say goodnight, it`s all wrong. It`s alright.
I close my eyes and take a bite, bite, bite.
Close my eyes and take a bite, bite, bite.
Close my eyes and take a bite.
Another thing I should`ve said, light another cigarette,
another thing I left behind ashes to ashes we all fall down.
I`m homeless on the west, she`s on the east.
I only wish that I could see her one more time.
To remind her that I love her and I shot him down.
Now she`s in that crazy town again.
Hitchhike my way across the states.
I`m banging on the door.
She`s passed out on the floor.
Sawed off shotgun by her side, no one heard her cry.
My tears roll down the wood of our old neighborhood.
I saw her through the window but
I didn`t have the strength to knock it down. Down. Down.
Didn`t have the strength to knock it down. Down. Down.
Didn`t have the strength to knock it down.