There's plenty of space to hang my stuff
But there's no where to hang myself in this room
Windows aren't high enough to jump out of
I don't think it's me only; we're all so lonely

The people I love the most are the one's that I pass quick
I can make them up, they're anything I pick
I fall in love 'few times a month
With the most interesting girls in the world, in the world
And I don't think it's me only; we're all so lonely

The subtleties in their walk tell me all about themselves
I remember everyone, my head's got big old bookshelves
I want them to make me up, too
And though none of it'd be true, it'd be special to her and me:
A great romance in complete privacy
And I don't think it's me only; we're all so lonely

We crested the hill and saw nothing
"Might as well roll down," I said, "we'll be dead in four years anyways."
Our sortie down the grass answered not a thing as we reached the base
Only to find another, yet, larger hill
"Should we climb it?" she said. "I don't know," I said.
"Should we climb it?" she said. "I don't know," I said.