Everybody Does

Wish I could write songs About anything other than death I can't go to bed Without trying the red shaven operas Each one so heavy Each one so cumbersome Each one a lead weight Hanging between my lung Spilling my guts Spit on a microphone breaking my voice Whenever I'm alone with you, can't talk Isn't this weather nice? Are you're okay? Should I go somewhere else and hide my face? Sprinter, learning away Marathon running, my ankles are sprained Marathon running, my ankles are sprained Ooh, ooh, ooh Ooh, ooh, ooh Ooh, ooh, ooh Ooh, ooh, ooh