Paint's Peeling

The paint’s peeling off the streets again
And I’ll drive and close my eyes in Michigan
And I feel nothing, not brave
It’s a hard day for breathing again
And the heat is chasing off all your friends
And their scattered bodies part to the shore again
And I feel nothing, not sane
It’s a hard day for dreaming again
And, oh, I’m not going back to the assholes that made me
And the perfect display of random acts of hopelessness
I wish I could stay here, but I think we’re all ready
Think we’re all ready
And I feel nothing, not sane
It’s a hard day for dreaming again
And, oh, now that you’ve seen almost all of America
All you can say is, «Where is all the water?»
And the war has been over
For years since you gave up
And last night, where the road had started
And last night, when my hands were choking you
Last night, when the room and your mood was dipping
And last night, when the ropes were pulling you in
You said, «Hey
How could you love me this way?»
You said, «Hey
But I think we’re all ready»
Think we’re all ready