It scares me to speak my mind It might sound self-absorbed I don't say half of what I think I wonder what I'm thinkin' for I'm smelling dead flowers Listening to the walls again I'm drinking from a leaky faucet And writing with this dried up pen Wish I still had my imaginary friend And who needs to listen, well What do I have to sell Everyone's just waitin' for their own turn Kind of like show and tell I'm smelling dead flowers Listening to the walls again I'm drinking from a leaky faucet And writing with this dried up pen Wish I still had my imaginary friend Someone to listen Someone to laugh Someone to cry at the right times I'm smelling dead flowers Listening to the walls again I'm drinking from a leaky faucet And writing with this dried up pen Wish I still had my imaginary friend I'm smelling dead flowers Listening to the walls again I'm drinking from a leaky faucet And writing with this dried up pen Wish I still had my imaginary friend And I would call him up But I don't remember his name...