A Quarter To Three

It's one a.m. you haven't called

It must be four wherever you are

And the photo booth strip, and the letter you wrote

They feel like nothing i could hold



Nothing bad, nothing free

There's nothing left

For me to feel



It's like goin' to bed at a quarter to three

Finally tired, finally empoty



Should i be up to play the game

Back and forth get back at me

And my confidence fell and i feel so mad

Tell me whose side are you on?



It's like goin' to peices could fix everything

At this point i'm really me




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