Three Month Weekend

(T. Sly/C. Shiflett/M. Riddle/R. Koff) It's a Thursday morning, four a.m. and you wont let me go if tomorrow comes I guess I'll never know even in the darkest hour it's the brightest time of day even when I go to bed I'm still awake Eyes held up with toothpicks and my jaw is going off I will never leave you or admit that I was wrong There's so many things I'd like to say, I'm foaming at the mouth maybe I could write, my pen is hallowed out I've got ideas and inventions and I'd use them if I could stop waking up the next day when they're all no good Please don't say another word, I know your story well conversations take two but I'm talking to myself Now I need an alibi and everything I did was true but every word I said was just a lie