(White/Armstrong)

Another night alone on a dark road somewhere far away

from my home. The summer's on my mind, so far behind.

Face in a sink reflects these caffienated insides. 

It's life scenarios you think of while you're alone,

and on my own. Like if my parents paid for everything

I own I could be somewhere in a classroom taking notes

of things that I already know (or think I do). What

doesn't kill you makes you grow. This nine to five

turns into twenty-four hours. It seems that escape

from this cold, dark prison is a dream. My priorities

are forgotten, stuck in a cycle on your knees. I

deliver in spite to my friends and my enemies. Some

days I stay and lie awake in bed just to breathe my

quickened heartbeat. I hear noises overhead, but this

face isn't strong enough to sleep. I have a dream

that I can sleep on my own. These days my pale

reflection can't pretend that this is all I have to

offer. I hear noises overhead but this throat isn't

strong enough to scream, or so it seems. Now I scream

on my own. This cup off coffee burning my insides,

and sip after sip I grow and come to realize that this

is moving on.