Sundays are for existing
And wondering why you do
Putting your plans to question
Giving up one or two
Even worse when you're on the verge
Of calling everything quits
You just found yourself the perfect
Excuse for a goodbye kiss
I wait on a made-up future
In which I'll become my dreams
The kingdom that knows no battles
No battles involving me
Only then will I say my name
And write all my songs
I'll finally take a picture
That won't make me bite my tongue
Ooh, oh, ooh, oh
I'm tired of missing people
I wonder if I am missed
Once again on the train line
The chore of a goodbye kiss
Can't see my friends, can't make amends
Not much left of both
So I just go through my days
Like knife through a honeycomb
