Courtesy Of

I think I'm tired of hearing don't With ticket stubs in front of me Paint my house all shades of gold That way I can't see That he's not real I'm not even friends with ones I know Courtesy of Curtis, I'm on my own Quarter your visit and then some As every breath it stirs me And I would have no one know Of all these years waiting Days sped, winding and wailing In an anvil of sheets Your nose upon mine, as I would go But who would you have if I were to leave But he's not real I'm not even friends with ones I know Courtesy of Curtis, I'm on my own