Pillow talk and blanket statements Bed of nails, too often vacant Read me like a book of matches (turn the page) Sew the patches on my straitjacket (not quite insane) Keep me in your back pocket And around your neck in a locket full of toxic hot topics Constantly drawing conclusions Becoming disillusioned We're painting ourselves into a corner With a broad brush in a bad light This apathetic aesthetic is simply pathetic Tuck me into my coffin I'm gonna sleep on it (on it) (Lights out, underground) I'm tossing and turning Awake yet still in mourning (A pipe dream, or so it seems) Night owl up at the crack of dawn Don't be alarmed, the early bird gets the worm Falling off my perch again Pushing our own narrative No filter, so candid Picture perfect, worth a thousand words Pillow talk and blanket statements Bed of nails, no longer vacant