Like a ghost in my head
And the walls spin
And you're paper-thin
From the haze of the smoke
And the mescaline
The threat of your brow
Under unmade sheets
In your ear with the noise
From the darkest streets
We ran far and wide
You screamed, you cried
You thought suicide was an alibi
But you were always a mess
You were always aloof
Yeah, it's awful, I guess
But it's the awful truth
It was truth from the first
To the last words that she read
And you're paper-thin
From the haze of the smoke
And the mescaline
The threat of your brow
Under unmade sheets
In your ear with the noise
From the darkest streets
We ran far and wide
You screamed, you cried
You thought suicide was an alibi
But you were always a mess
You were always aloof
Yeah, it's awful, I guess
But it's the awful truth
It was truth from the first
To the last words that she read
txt: Wishing Well - The Airborne Toxic Event
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