the morning sun's about to break,
i'm looking in as you create someone,
you lift your head and brush your teeth,
and make your bed as if you won't sleep again,
you fix your hair and tie your shoes,
and tuck your shirt and now you feel new.

the glass is full, the glass is broke,
and every day dissolves and there's no hope
of ever leaving this temporary life.
of ever leaving this temporary life.

you may ask yourself is there anyone so alone?
but there's no beep before the dial-tone
when you pick it up to see who called
if there is it's probably your mom

but, oh, the rising sun brings little cheer
to this city with the stolen name
and you're wondering whose bright idea
it was to pack your things and leave your friends
and move down here.

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